


Cupid's Hack

by carryonwaywardones



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean/Cas Big Bang 2020 (Supernatural), F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Season 7 divergent, coming out (positive), temporary mcd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryonwaywardones/pseuds/carryonwaywardones
Summary: Charlie has been friends with Dean and Sam since high school. After she's killed by the Leviathans, she wakes up in heaven, hacks angel radio, and convinces Gabriel to let her return to Earth as a Cupid for queer couples. Dean and Cas are her guinea pigs. Sam and Dean find Emmanuel/Cas. As happens in Season 7, they lose Cas, get him back, and lose him all over again before Dean can really process anything. Will axe-throwing sessions and feelings talks with Charlie be enough for Dean to come to terms with his feelings for Cas and about his own sexuality? How did the angels manage to create a new angel anyway? Will Cas ever return to who he was before taking on Sam's insanity--and how will they make that happen?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jody Mills/Bobby Singer, Sam Winchester/Elle (original character)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52
Collections: DCBB 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> Thanks for checking out my first DCBB!! Massive thanks to my beta reader, HanilarLion. The stunning artwork is done by verobatto-angelxhunter and can also be found here: https://verobatto-angelxhunter.tumblr.com/post/633444741011439617/hi-my-friends-im-here-again-with-my-second. 
> 
> If you like it, don't forget to hug that kudos button! 
> 
> <3

****

**Dean**

Dean’s hand was curled into a tight fist at his side, shaking with the effort of not slapping the smug Leviathan in front of him. Chet’s smirk was almost too much to bear. Almost.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. “We’re not done,” he said, pointing at Chet. The monster’s smirk grew. Dean turned back to Sam and Bobby, pulling his phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Have you seen the news today?” Charlie’s voice chirped.

Dean’s eyes flashed to Sam and Bobby. “Not yet. Give me a minute.” He indicated the stairs with a jerk of his chin before heading up them, giving Chet a death glare first. Bobby and Sam weren’t far behind. Sam closed the basement door and cocked an eyebrow at his brother. Dean moved farther into the living room--out of Chet’s earshot, he hoped--and Bobby and Sam followed. Dean pressed a button on his phone. “You’re on speaker, Charles.”

“‘Sup, bitches?”

Bobby and Sam said their hellos as Dean found the news channel. Dean focused on the disturbing security footage as the reporter explained the scene.

“‘The two men, who up until today were presumed dead, locked the doors and opened fire, leaving no survivors.’” A grainy security video of two Sam and Dean lookalikes were shown gunning down a room full of people. Dean clenched his fist as he watched the Leviathan version of him wink at the camera.

“Son of a bitch _winked_?” he choked out.

“Yeah. Think you guys should hunker down wherever you are until this boils over.”

“Or go after them,” Dean said. When Bobby looked at him like he’d sprouted an extra head, he explained, “They’re wearing our faces. This is personal.”

Sam nodded, looking thoughtful. “I’m with Dean on this one.”

“Charlie, back me up,” Bobby said.

“I mean, don’t go after them _yet_ ,” Charlie answered. “How’d they find you? How do we kill them?”

“IDs and credit cards,” Sam said. “They downloaded it from…” He glanced at Dean before adding, “Cas’ memories.”

Dean tried to hide the pain that ripped through him. He only half hoped it worked. Sam and Bobby had always been able to see past his bullshit.

“Shit,” Charlie said. “New project for me, then! I’ll have new IDs for you boys in...maybe an hour? New cards, too. Should be untraceable.”

“You’re the best,” Sam said.

“This is nothing, buddy. I pulled this off...how many years ago?”

Sam smiled at the memory. Dean tried to pull himself back to the moment and away from the flashes of Cas’ empty trench coat floating in a reservoir. “Ten. At least.”

“Easy.” They heard the distinctive crack of popping knuckles. “I’ll bring them to you.” Her voice pitched up in a question. “Where are you, anyhow?”

“Rufus’ old cabin,” Bobby jumped in.

“Ah. Montana?”

“Colorado,” Dean corrected. “Keystone.”

“I’m in Chicago. Be there as soon as I can.”

Dean did some mental math. “Charlie, that’s almost 18 hours away. You can’t drive that in a day.”

“Actually--”

“I don’t give a damn how many energy drinks you have. We’ll meet you in the middle.”

There was a pause as Charlie thought it over. “I could fly.”

“We’ll meet you in the middle,” Dean said firmly. The last time he was on a plane, he and Sam had exorcised a demon. Having Charlie potentially trapped on a plane with anything was a dealbreaker. Demons were small fries, sure, but Leviathan? Hell no.

“Sam, will you talk some sense into him?”

“We’ll meet you in the middle,” Sam said, already searching for his bag.

“Ugh. Fine. Don’t be dumb.”

“Never,” Sam said. Dean imagined Charlie’s responding eye roll.

“What’re you doing home, anyway?” Bobby asked. “Thought you were in Omaha, going after some werewolves.”

“Small fish. That was yesterday. But today, I think I figured out who our newest big bad is.” Her voice got hushed, excited. “And I’m hacking into his database.”

“Charlie--” Bobby started in a warning tone.

“I’m already here,” she said. “Virtually, obviously. I can download this nonsense while I get your IDs all set up and ready to go.”

“Just...be careful, kiddo,” he told her. Sam smiled fondly. Charlie was practically Bobby’s daughter.

“Always am.”

“Liar,” Dean jumped in.

“Jerk.” They heard the rapid-fire clicking of keys. “See you in a few hours.” The phone went dead.

Sam’s eyes grew distant as they drifted to the floor. “She’s in their headquarters, and we can’t even back her up. We’re not even there.”

“How close would she have to be to their office or whatever to hack into things?” Dean asked.

Sam’s eyes left the floor but kept their distance. “Pretty close.”

“I’m texting her,” Dean said. He typed out a message:

<

>>Stay. Put.

>>Close enough to hack, far enough to see them coming

Dean frowned. That didn’t help him at all.

<

>>I would, but they won’t

>>But if they do, look for RRE

>>See you soon

>>Breathe

Without thinking about it, Dean took a deep breath through his nose. Goddammit, he always felt better after that. Charlie knew him almost as well as Sam. The only one who’d ever understood him better was…

Nope. No, he wasn’t going down that road. Thinking about that stupid, stubborn, lost angel never ended well. He cleared his throat before saying, “She’s fine.” When his response was met with blank stares, he added, “She’s being smart.”

“Your kind of smart or my kind of smart?” Bobby asked.

Dean barely resisted rolling his eyes. “Charlie’s kind of smart, ok?” He started throwing his stuff into his duffel.

“Take my car,” Bobby said.

Dean opened his mouth to fight back, but Sam spoke first. “Less conspicuous?”

Bobby jerked his head at the TV. An image of a goddamn perfect replica of Baby showed up.

Dean walked closer to the TV. “They’re driving a copy of _my_ _baby_?”

“Come on,” Sam said, clapping his brother on the back and taking Bobby’s keys with a nod of thanks. “We should get going.”

“Only if you want to twiddle your thumbs hoping no one sees you for two hours,” Bobby reminded him. “Charlie needs an hour and will probably hit traffic.”

“Or have to pee every hour or so,” Dean grumbled.

Sam scoffed. Bobby ignored both of them. “Stay put. Help me see if we can figure out how to kill these things.” His eyes flicked to the news again. “Or see if there’s a pattern to your evil twins’ killing spree.”

Dean looked at the screen. Jericho had been their first stop. It was vaguely familiar. He grabbed a beer and sat in front of the TV. “Fine by me.” He ignored Sam’s eye roll and focused on the news and the beer.

The two hours inched by. Dean’s mind wandered between the news, Charlie, and the one person he thought of whenever life got too quiet:

Cas.

 _That dumb son of a bitch_ , he thought as he took a swig of his beer. _If he’d just listened to me, he’d be here. And we wouldn’t have to wait another 14 fucking hours to get to Charlie_.

Of course, there was more to his thoughts of Cas than Charlie. But thinking too hard was risky. That particular train of thought led to nowhere but an endless pit of despair. Dean knew it well. All thoughts of lost ones led to that same damn pit--his mom, his dad, the fucking baby in a trench coat with shitty people skills and the kind of loyalty Dean had rarely seen.

No, he couldn’t go there. Focus on the task at hand. Focus on the news. That had to be enough.

Sam was the one who eventually made sense of the killing spree pattern. “It’s where our cases have been, Dean. Every case since you picked me up at Stanford.”

Dean’s hands clenched around the unfamiliar steering wheel. “And we can’t even go after them.”

“We’ll get ‘em,” Sam said. “Just gotta get Charlie first.”

Dean nodded, fiddling with the radio. Charlie was first. That was important. He had a weird, cold, sinking feeling in his gut about her. Something was wrong. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe he didn’t trust anything good. Cas was gone. Sam’s damn piñata was broken. Bobby’s house had burned down. Maybe he was just expecting something to go wrong for Charlie.

They’d been at the midway point long enough for Dean to start pacing. Sam gave him a flat look. “It’s only been half an hour, Dean.”

“We gave her two hours, Sammy. She should be here by now.” Dean pulled out his phone and called her.

 _Hiya! You’ve reached Charlie. If you don’t know my last name, you shouldn’t have this number._ There was a pleasant beep. “Where the hell are you?” Dean demanded. He hung up immediately.

“Nothing?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.”

Maybe it was Dean’s imagination. Maybe Sam did actually go pale in the faint fluorescent light from the street lamp. But something had clearly changed his mind. “Let’s go. We’ll keep calling.”

The hours got longer, the night darker. Sam and Dean took turns sleeping--well, Sam slept. Maybe. Dean dozed fitfully, memories and nightmares taking turns playing like a movie in his head.

Cas’ broken apology. Cas, leaking black goo. Sam, shooting at nothing. An imagined vision of Charlie, eyes closed and a terrible gash across her stomach.

The second time they switched, Dean checked on Sam. “You wanna find somewhere to stop?”

Sam chuckled humorlessly. “And get caught?” He shook his head. “I’m getting by. You?”

Dean shrugged. “Getting by.” Sam’s eyes narrowed, but he pretended to buy it. Dean was sure he’d get a lecture later, but they didn’t have time for that. Not yet.

They reached Chicago in the very early morning. Dean had been calling Charlie once an hour, and she hadn’t picked up once. Sam had stopped creating excuses and naming random reasons for her silence and had instead tried tracking her phone.

“Can’t find her,” he muttered. “Dammit, Charlie.”

“Dude, none of us should have Find Your Phone or Friends or whatever turned on. If the wrong people could track us--”

“I know.” Sam spun his phone in his hand idly. “I just wish she’d told us where she was.”

“What’d she say? Close enough to hack, far enough to see them coming?” When Dean saw Sam nod out of the corner of his eye, he added, “She told me if things go south, look for RRE. Any idea what that is?”

Sam shrugged. “I’ll look.” A few tense, quiet minutes later, Sam snorted. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

“Go.”

Sam smirked. “Their headquarters. Richard Roman Enterprises. Run by Dick Roman.”

Dean’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Dick Roman? The sons of bitches could’ve gone with almost any leader, and they picked a guy named _Dick Roman_?”

Sam’s smirk grew. “I mean, politically, it’s a smart choice. He’s got friends in high places. Hell, he’s already pretty high up. Rich, powerful.” He shrugged. “Not his fault his name sucks.”

Dean shook his head. “Charlie would probably be in a cafe, right? Hiding in plain sight?”

“Sounds like her.” Sam chuckled lightly. “Energy drinks or coffees.”

“How close would Charlie need to be to hack in?”

“Probably a mile,” Sam said. “We can drive around, see what we see. Probably only a few open all night, anyway.”

They found five cafes. Charlie wasn’t in any of them. A knot had been steadily tightening in Dean’s stomach since the first message he’d left for Charlie, and it only grew more and more solid with each cafe they visited. He’d almost feel hopeful--almost. But every time they glanced through windows and saw nothing but darkness, much less a head of fiery red hair, the hope faded and the fear grew.

“That’s all of them,” Sam said as they finished their lap around the office complex. “No signs of violence or cops anywhere, either.” His phone rang.

“We’re going to her apartment,” Dean said.

Sam glanced at his phone. He almost looked scared. “It’s Bobby.”

“Dammit,” Dean muttered. “You gotta pick up. He’ll just keep calling.”

The fear in Sam’s eyes mixed with sadness, but he listened anyway. “Hey, Bobby.” Fortunately, Sam didn’t put him on speakerphone. “No, not yet. We’re headed to her apartment.” A pause. Dean turned the corner and pretended the pounding of his heart in his ears was just someone running down the sidewalk. “We started with the cafes, Bobby.” Another right turn. Her building was only a few more blocks away. “You don’t think she’d be in there?” Dean frowned at his brother before focusing again on the road. “We’ll start with her apartment. Yes, we’ll call if we find anything.” Sam hung up.

“Well?”

Sam’s eyes hadn’t changed. “Bobby thinks she might’ve gone into Richard Roman Enterprises.”

“She’s too smart for that, Sammy. She’d get caught.”

“Dean, it’s Charlie. She could hack her way into anything. You really think she wouldn’t hack herself into an office building?”

“I think she should know they probably have her mug shot and would kill her on sight.”

“It’s _Charlie_. She could’ve tricked the cameras--”

“She needs someone on the outside to do that. Remember?”

Sam went quiet, and Dean knew he was remembering all the times they’d been Charlie’s backup on the outside, making sure the tech went smoothly. “She’s too smart to go somewhere like that without backup, Sammy.”

“So, what? You think she went to her apartment instead of going to see us?”

Dean shook his head, fury building inside him to a boiling point. “No. I think they killed her, didn’t want the press of a body in a cafe but wanted to make sure we got the message, so they figured out where she lived and took her home.” He pulled into the parking garage for her apartment building.

Sam let the idea hang in the air, let the tension it carried build for a beat before speaking. “Or maybe she had to go home to print the IDs.”

Dean shook his head. The fear and fury in his stomach had boiled over into his throat, making it impossible to speak without snapping at his brother. And Sam hadn’t done anything to deserve that.

Well, today, at least.

They ran up the stairs and used the spare key Charlie had given them to get inside. It only took three steps to find her.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean didn’t want to be right. He didn’t want to see Charlie’s dead body lying on the couch, covered in blood. He didn’t want to read the note on the table. He would have much rather checked on the young woman who was practically his sister, but Sam beat him to it.

“No pulse,” Sam choked out. His eyes were hazy with tears when they found his brother’s. “Dean, she’s gone.”

The note. Dean could focus on the note. One small thing at a time. It held only two words:

_“Regards,_

_Dick”_

Dean punched the table. Hard.

“Dean! Whoa! Calm down!” Sam said, grabbing his brother’s shoulders. “Someone could’ve heard you.”

“You think I give a damn?” he groaned, checking out his now busted knuckles. _That’s probably gonna scar_.

“Do you want her neighbors calling the cops on us?”

Dean took a breath in through his nose. Charlie had taught him that, he realized idly. Cas had reinforced it.

Cas. Goddammit, what he wouldn’t give for that damn angel to show up now.

“We gotta get her out of here,” he said. “Without anybody seeing.”

Sam was pale, his eyes wild, but he nodded. “Okay. And then...what? Drive another 12 hours?”

“Not like we can pull over anywhere to crash.” Dean’s vision was swimming. He furiously wiped away the tears that were leaking out of his eyes. “We gotta get her out of here.”

“The suitcase,” Sam said. When Dean gave him a standard _what the fuck_ look, he explained, “The one she’d crawl into?”

Dean’s stomach churned. He nodded. He went into Charlie’s closet and found it, ignoring everything else. He couldn’t afford it. Focus on the task at hand, not the Harry Potter poster she’d bought the night the last movie came out. Empty the suitcase and ignore the D&D pieces that fell onto the floor, pieces Dean and Sam had given her. Carry the suitcase to the hall. That was all he could handle-- _barely_. He could drink to the bottom of a handle later, but first, they had to get the hell out of Chicago.

Dean forced himself to speak. “We better hurry. Get out of here before rush hour or we’re screwed.”

They did it, somehow. Dean’s brain had blacked out the worst bits before they were even at Bobby’s truck. “I’ll drive first,” he told Sam. Driving would...well, driving would usually clear his head. Nothing could clear his head but sleep at this point. But since he couldn’t sleep, it was better to focus on something. Focus on the road.

About a half hour later, Sam said, “We should call Bobby.”

“Let him sleep.” Dean’s voice was flat, emotionless. He couldn’t feel--not yet. If he felt this--really felt it--he wouldn’t be able to drive, to move, to function.

“You really think he’s sleeping?” Sam asked.

Dean’s eyes briefly met his brother’s, and there was a quiet plea in them: _Don’t tell him. Not yet._ In a silent agreement, Sam let it slide.

An hour later, he tried again. “He has a right to know, Dean. Would you rather tell him in person?”

Dean glanced at his brother. No. He knew waiting was a mistake, knew Bobby would want some time to stew in his own juices before seeing them. “Fine. You’re calling him, though.”

“He’s going on speaker.”

Dean gave Sam a flat look. “Then I’m finishing my coffee first.” Dean held up the cold brew he’d taken out of Charlie’s fridge and drank some of it before adding, “Bitch.”

Sam’s lips quirked up at one corner. “Jerk.” He let Dean control the music, let the familiar chords of Led Zeppelin fill the car.

Dean’s phone rang just before his coffee ran out. He pulled it out of his pocket and instantly put it on speakerphone. “Bobby. Hey.”

“I think I got a lead on how to kill these things,” Bobby said.

Sam jumped in. “Go.”

“Borax,” he said.

“Borax?” Dean asked.

“It’s a cleaning solution sort of thing. I mean, you still have to chop off their heads, but Borax burns ‘em pretty good.”

On any other day, that would’ve been great news. But today...Dean just said, “Thanks, Bobby.” The words came out hollow.

“You three kids almost home?”

Something twisted in Dean--some horrible, soul-wrenching nausea. He barely made it through a traffic light, and a couple cars honked at him for cutting it so close. His hands clenched around the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

“Dean? Sam?”

“Uh…” Sam started. “Charlie...she didn’t meet us, so we kept going.”

“Okay...” Bobby said. He was too damn smart to not know where this was going, and his tone made that quite clear.

Sam’s eyes flicked to Dean, a silent plea. Dean cleared his throat and forced his jaw to unlock. “We got to Chicago. Checked out the cafes as much as we could without going inside. Went to her apartment…” Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest. Breathing took conscious effort.

“And?” Bobby asked in a tight voice.

 _Breathe,_ Dean thought. Charlie had said it so often that he heard it in her voice. Deep breath in. Say it on the exhale. “She’s gone, Bobby.”

There was silence on the other end. Sam and Dean waited, letting the news sink in.

Bobby cleared his throat. “You’re bringing her home?”

“We’re bringing her home,” Dean confirmed.

“Ok.” Bobby took a deep breath. “Ok, then. Don’t do anything dumb on the way, but don’t take your time.”

“See you soon,” Sam said before hanging up. He exhaled heavily. “That could’ve been worse,” he mumbled before drinking more coffee.

Dean nodded curtly before turning up the music. He was out of words for the day.

By the time they reached Bobby’s, Dean was _done._ Bone-tired. Soul-tired. He’d managed to stay numb the entire drive, but it hadn’t been easy. The grief, the anger, the way he missed her in his soul were starting to leak through. He barely made it out of the car.

Bobby was waiting for them. He was standing next to a funeral pyre, holding a sheet. A pile of ropes rested at his feet, a silent reminder. His face was stony. None of the three men were strangers to death, strangers to losing loved ones. To losing family.

That didn’t make it any easier. It never made it any easier. Charlie was joining the lineup of lost family members. Dean’s parents. Ellen. Jo. Cas.

Cas. For the millionth time, Dean wished for Cas.

**Charlie**

Charlie woke up to the smell of pine needles and hot chocolate. She enjoyed a beautiful, _beautiful_ Christmas day with her parents. It was perfect. Utterly, absolutely perfect.

So, naturally, she didn’t trust it.

After her parents went to bed, she pulled out her laptop. “Damn, this thing is ancient,” she muttered. “Gotta fix you up. What’s the…” She paused. “Wifi. Where’s the wifi?”

Nothing. Not even an option for a connection.

She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Come on, Charlie, think. _Think_. What was the wifi in…”

Everything fell into place almost instantly. She wasn’t in the early 2000s. Not really. Her parents were dead. She’d been hacking into the Richard Roman Enterprises database when…

“I’m dead,” she said out loud. No response.

“I’m in heaven?” she asked. Still nothing.

“Okay. Okay, you’re in heaven.” Peace and joy rushed through her, tinged with guilt. The boys. Her boys. She’d been helping Sam and Dean. They needed her help. She wasn’t done.

“Frak,” she muttered. They’d just lost Cas. How could they handle losing her, too?

Wait. She was in heaven. She was in heaven!! Maybe she could find Cas, could get him back to the boys. Maybe?

“Worth a shot,” she told herself. “First things first. Gotta get out of here.”

She started typing.

**Dean**

_This is wrong. I’m going to kill them._ The thought kept ringing in Dean’s head, impossible to escape and playing on an endless loop. He wrapped Charlie in the sheet.

_This is wrong. I’m going to kill them._

Sam tied the ropes around her body. Her still, lifeless body. Jesus, that was wrong too. She shouldn’t be dead. Charlie was too young and fiery and kind and good to be dead. But everyone--all the angels and demons and hunters--knew full well that didn’t matter. Death didn’t discriminate.

Dean carried her body to the funeral pyre.

_This is wrong. I’m going to kill them._

“You sure about this?” Sam asked his brother. His brow was furrowed. It was gonna get stuck that way some day, Dean thought idly.

He nodded. “Yeah. Hunter’s funeral. She deserves it.”

Sam paused, reading Dean’s face, before nodding. He sprinkled salt and then gas over her body. God, Charlie was _tiny_. Even in death, Dean wanted to protect her.

_This is wrong. I’m going to kill them._

Dean lit the match and dropped it onto the pyre. He and Sam watched in silence as the wood, the sheets, and the hunter they held went up in flames.

“Do you wanna say a few words?” Sam asked quietly.

Dean suddenly couldn’t speak. There was a lump in his throat. He tried to swallow past it, but then his vision blurred. Tears. Goddamn tears. For a change, he let them fall. He shook his head.

Sam nodded, understanding as always. They stared at the flames for a long, long moment.

“This is wrong,” Sam said. “This shouldn’t have happened. I know it’s never right, but--”

“This feels worse,” Dean said.

Sam’s eyebrows went up in surprise. Dean could read his brother’s thoughts just from those eyebrows. _Dean, saying how he feels? That never happened._ But Sam didn’t comment on it. The big nerd knew better than that. Sam nodded curtly.

“I’m going to kill them,” Dean said in a cold, tight voice that wasn’t quite his own. “I’m gonna kill every last one of them.”

“ _We_ are,” Sam interjected. Dean glanced at his brother. Sam’s jaw was clenched, his eyes frantic. “As soon as we find all of ‘em. They’ve taken too many people already.”

Dean glared at Sam. “One is too many.”

Sam’s eyes met his, the firelight flickering in them. He didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to name the other person they’d lost.

_Cas._

Were they both remembering the empty trench coat floating in a black reservoir, the broken apology that came too late? Dean didn’t know. He tried to push the thought away. Losing Charlie was bad enough. He couldn’t think about both of them. Not tonight.

After the pyre had reduced to ashes, the boys went inside. Bobby, who had spent the whole damn time drinking in surly silence, went straight for the liquor cabinet. “You boys met her in high school, right?”

 _What the hell?_ Dean looked at Sam, who was equally confused. Bobby knew exactly when they’d met Charlie. _Where is this going?_

“Just about,” Sam said. He shrugged, his eyes a little wild. “Ever since she taught me how to build that stupid robot.” His expression told Dean to go with it.

“Can’t believe you were in a freaking robotics club,” Dean mumbled.

“Yeah, well, it sure paid off when those shifters killed her parents and we gave her the talk, didn’t it?” Sam reminded him.

Dean’s eyes went far away. “Yeah.” He shook his head and reached into the fridge, getting a beer for each of them. He cracked them open and handed one to Sam, then to Bobby. Bobby put a hand on his shoulder. For a guy who was so very drunk, Bobby’s eyes were oddly clear. “You did all you could.” He focused that gaze on each Winchester in turn. “Not your fault.”

Dean had no idea how much he’d needed to hear that until his eyes threatened to brim over. Tears? Again? _No_ , dammit. He fought to pull himself together.

Bobby got three shot glasses and whiskey. He poured them, explaining, “We’ll look into these sons of bitches more tomorrow. For now…” He held up the shots. “To Charlie.”

Sam and Dean took theirs. “To Charlie.” There was a deceptively pleasant clink of the shot glasses before the trio downed their whiskey.

Sam nodded at the candle lit on the mantle. “What’s that for?”

Bobby shrugged. “No rule saying you can’t light a candle _and_ have a funeral, so...”

Dean and Sam nodded. It was an old hunter’s tradition: if a traditional hunter’s funeral wasn’t possible, light a candle instead. The tradition was achingly familiar. John had lit one every year on the anniversary of their mother’s death.

The house was oddly quiet as they drank, reminding Sam of something. “We thought you still had a Leviathan in the basement,” he asked.

Bobby ran a hand down his face. “Yeah. I did. Not anymore, though. Passed off the head and the body to Jody. She’ll deal with them.” He poured another shot for each of them. After another toast, they all knocked them back. Bobby explained what he’d found on Leviathans, which was basically jack squat. Sam told him about the files on Charlie’s laptop they hadn’t had a chance to look through yet.

“Bet she got something good,” Bobby said. His eyes shone with just a hint of pride.

Dean tried to pull off his usual playful grin, but it felt wrong. “Don’t think she’d get anything else. We’ll look into it tomorrow.”

Bobby nodded and poured more shots. Sam pulled his glass away. “I’m good.”

Bobby frowned at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” He tapped his head lightly. “Don’t want to push it.”

“Right. How...uh…” Bobby seemed to be struggling with words. “How’s your melon?”

Sam shrugged. “Manageable.”

Bobby squinted at Sam before shooting Dean a look that clearly meant this was just the beginning of the “how broken is Sam’s head” discussion. Sam stood and dealt with his dishes. “I’m gonna see if I can crack Charlie’s laptop.”

Dean laughed. “Right. Good luck.”

“Don’t break anything,” Bobby added.

**Sam**

Sam nodded, took the laptop and his duffel bag, and went upstairs. He dumped his shit unceremoniously on the bed and ran a hand over his face. Finally, in the quiet of the room, he gave into the question he’d been too afraid to voice. “Cas, where are you? Are you even here? We need you, man.” There was no answer, of course. But he’d needed to ask.

An idea came to him--one grounded in tradition and superstition, one that he’d always shrugged off. But what the hell did he have to lose? So he dug around in his bag and found what he was looking for: a candle and a matching holder. He took them up to his room, closed the door, and set them on his desk.

“I must be out of my mind,” he muttered as he pulled out his lighter. He stared at the candle, deliberating. “But what the hell.” He lit it and sat back on his bed, watching the flames.

“Hey, Charlie,” he said, eyes already tearing up. “I, uh...I don’t know if you can hear me. And we never had the chance to explain this to you, but, uh...sometimes, after hunters--” He swallowed sharply at the lump in his throat. “Well, yeah. If we can’t give them a proper hunter’s funeral, we’ll light a candle. And I know me and Dean just gave you one, but…” The tears leaked out of his eyes. “I dunno. This felt right.” He stared at the flickering flame. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Charlie. It...it shouldn’t have been you.” He let the tears fall, let the silence wrap around him.

“I’m worried about Dean,” he admitted to the tiny candle flame. “I’m really worried about him. And that’s not on you. I hope you’re having fun adventuring with...I don’t know, Hermione and Wonder Woman or something.” He smiled at the idea. “Bet you’re running circles around them.” He took a deep breath, in and out. “And I know this isn’t fair, and I don’t have any right to ask this. So feel free to tell me to...back the hell off. But…” Sam shook his head and ran one hand down his face. “If you’ve got any kind of pull up there, any back doors or connections, any memos you could send to…” He laughed humorlessly. “I don’t even know who could or would help us at this point. Cas, maybe--if you could find him. If he’s even around.” Sam thought of his brother and how much he’d been drinking since Cas died. “Shit. Dean…” Sam chuckled again. “Well, you don’t need me to tell you how much Dean needs help. We’ll look into what you found tomorrow.” His vision was starting to spin, and he knew he was too drunk to try to hack Charlie’s computer that night. His lips curled into a half-smile. “Anyway. Thanks, kid. For everything.” He almost blew out the candle before adding, “And if you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna do this again. By all means, rest in peace. I just...it’s...good to have someone to talk to.” He paused, thinking about the lonely road set out for himself and his brother. Beating impossible odds was basically just another Tuesday (not _that_ Tuesday, thank God). But it still took a toll. It always took a toll. “‘Night, Charles.” He blew out the candle.

**Charlie**

“I hear you,” Charlie said, tears streaming down her face. “I hear you, Sammy. I’m coming.” She glared at the pinwheel of death on her computer. “Come on, come on,” she muttered. A bright little 100% popped up at the corner of her screen, and Enochian started pouring through the speakers. “Okay! Okay, we are in business!” She rubbed her hands together before cracking her knuckles. An impish grin spread over her face. “Let’s see if Baby Shark gets their attention.”

**Dean**

Bobby waited until Sam had disappeared from the stairs to talk again. “How do you think he’s really doing?”

“Sammy?” Dean shrugged. “I dunno.”

Bobby just looked at him.

Dean sighed. “I think he’s got bats in the belfry and is lying to both of us about just how bad it really is.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Bobby took a swig of whiskey before leaning back in his chair, studying Dean as he crossed his arms. “And you?”

Dean frowned.

“How are you? Really? And don’t you dare try to sell me that ‘I’m fine’ bullcrap. It didn’t work last time. Sure as hell ain’t gonna work now.”

Dean glared at Bobby, but by hell if the old drunk didn’t glare right back. They’d had this conversation not that long ago. “I keep my marbles in a lead box,” Dean had said. But that didn’t mean none of them were cracked.

“What, are we in a shrink’s office now?” Dean said. It came out more sharply than he intended. It was a barb, meant to protect himself more than hurt anyone else.

Bobby held up his hands defensively. “I’m just asking. Figured now’s as good a time as any to check in.” His voice softened--a first in their relationship. “I got the voicemail, Dean.”

Dean tried to play dumb, even though his own words were echoing in his ears, haunting him. _You asked me how I was doing? Well, not good._ “We don’t do check-ins.”

“You also haven’t lost two important people while your brother’s seein’ his old bunkmate before.” Bobby’s expression was somewhere between mad and awkward, and it broke Dean’s defenses a little. He was trying. Bobby didn’t talk about feelings. Ever. But he was genuinely trying. So Dean took a breath.

“Right.” He stared into his whiskey, thinking. “Fine, I guess.”

“Bullshit.”

He glared at Bobby. “You asked how I am. I told you. You think I’d lie to you?”

“I think you’d lie to yourself.” When Dean crossed his arms, Bobby sighed. “Fine. I’m pissed. I’m pissed at those Leviathans for taking her and for being so damn hard to kill.” He raised his eyebrows at Dean, and Dean heard the message loud and clear.

_Your turn._

He poured more whiskey into his glass, then Bobby’s. “I’m pissed, too. I’m pissed at the Leviathans for killing--” He couldn’t say her name. “You know.” Bobby nodded. “And I’m pissed at friggin’ Cas for letting them in. I’m pissed at Sam for lying to us.”

“You sure he’s lying?”

“I think he’s got his brand of crazy under control and locked up, but I think the dam could break anytime.” A wave of barely concealed panic threatened to take Dean under, so he drank.

Bobby drank, too. “We’ll figure it out. Might take us a bit, but we’ll figure it out. We know how to hurt the bastards now. That’s a start.”

Dean held out his glass in a toast. “Here’s to that.” They finished their whiskey in one go. Bobby set his glass down with a satisfied exhale. “I’m gonna see what else I can find on these sons of bitches. You get some sleep.”

“I--”

“You haven’t slept in at least 24 hours.” Bobby jerked his head towards the stairs. “Go. There’ll be plenty to do tomorrow, don’t worry.”

Dean exhaled in a frustrated rush but listened. “Fine. See you tomorrow, Bobby.”

Bobby just waved him away, already engrossed in his book.

Dean’s eyes scanned the walls of the cabin. Nothing had changed since he and Sam had left a few days ago. So why did everything feel different?

He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms as more tears threatened. Of course everything felt different. Charlie was gone. It should be pouring rain. _Something_ should be destroyed. Charlie was gone, and the world should react accordingly.

But, of course, it had barely reacted when he and Sam stopped the damn apocalypse. He shouldn’t be surprised.

Dean dug in his bag for his toiletries, and his fingers brushed over something cylindrical. He pulled it out, rolling the candle in his hand.

He missed Charlie more than he could say, more than he could bear to feel. But she wasn’t the only one whose loss had torn a hole in his heart.

They hadn’t been able to bury Cas, and he hadn’t been able to let go of the angel’s stupid trenchcoat. And he’d spent the past few weeks pissed--too pissed to do anything other than drink. But now…

Dean wasn’t ready to forgive Cas. Hell no. Not even close. But he could do this. He could do one little thing to mark the loss of someone who once meant something to him.

He set the candle and its holder on the flimsy desk, pulled out his Zippo, and lit it. The candle crackled and came to life, slightly blurry in Dean’s whiskey-enhanced vision.

“This doesn’t mean we’re even, ok?” he said to the empty room. “This doesn’t excuse the _shit_ you pulled. But…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. How could he explain this? And who the fuck was he explaining it to, anyway? He snorted to himself, grabbed his toothbrush, and left for a moment. The candle kept its quiet, bright vigil--the one Dean himself was still too raw to keep or call his own.

Dean waited until he was lying in bed, lights out in the quiet cabin, to cry. He made sure his sobs were as close to silent as possible. He mourned Charlie, mourned the future she’d deserved, mourned the memories they’d never had the chance to make. He let out a little bit of the heartbreak.

And then Dean slowed his breathing. Pulled himself back together. Forced the tears to stop. These weren’t tears that would eventually run out. No. He had an endless reserve of this particular pain. Better to stop it than lose himself to it completely.

He glanced at the candle, still burning brightly on the desk. He blew it out and slipped into a fitful sleep.

**Charlie**

“ _What_ do you _want_?”

Charlie spun her head to find an extremely exasperated angel. At least, she assumed he was an angel. She’d never met him.

“I take it you don’t like ‘Baby Shark’ that much?”

His golden eyes flared. “How are you awake?”

“I was in the middle of something important,” she said simply.

The angel just glared at her. He was short, she thought. But maybe he just seemed short because she was used to Sam and Dean.

“You’re dead, kiddo. Your work is done. You can rest now.”

Charlie quirked her lips. “Never been good at resting.” She leaned back in her chair. “Castiel. Heard of him?”

The angel gave her a full-body eyeroll. “ _Ugh_. Yes. Unfortunately.”

Hope sparked in Charlie, breaking through the monotony of everything. “You have? Is he here?”

“No, dumbass. He’s alive.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped.

“Yeah, we’re not sure how he managed it, either.”

“I have to tell Sam and Dean,” Charlie said, fingers already flying over her computer.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on there, kiddo.” The angel took the computer away and closed it. Charlie buried the white-hot anger that flared in her. “You’re done.”

She squinted at him. “No. I’m not. Sam and Dean need to know Cas is alive.”

“They’ll find out soon enough.”

“You don’t get it. Sam’s marbles have already spilled. Dean was only walking and talking because he was drinking. They’ve lost me and Cas in the span of…” Charlie tried to do the math. Gauging time was hard in heaven. “Two weeks or so. We don’t have time.”

The angel’s eyes became almost sympathetic. “Time is relative, kid. You’ll see. A couple of days is nothing. A year is a blink.”

Charlie couldn’t hold back her anger anymore. “They saved the damn world, and you’re not willing to help them?”

“I did help them!” the angel yelled. “I fought my big brother for them. I fought freaking Lucifer and had to fake my own damn death just to survive.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped. “Gabriel?”

His eyebrows went up. “You’ve heard of me?”

“I’ve read the books.”

Gabriel’s golden eyes focused. Charlie could have sworn on all of her D&D dice that he was staring into her soul. “Then you know they broke the rules. They burned the book. And a whole lot of my brothers and sisters died because Cas decided to play God.”

An idea sparked in Charlie’s mind. A wild, undoubtedly batshit, probably completely impossible idea.

Her favorite kind.

“I want to become a Cupid,” she said.

Gabriel gave a great, booming laugh. Charlie crossed her arms and tried to stare him down. When her expression didn’t break, Gabriel said, “You’re serious.”

“You’re low on angels. I’m assuming none of you know how to handle queer relationships well.”

Gabriel leaned against the wall. “I’m listening.”

“Make me a Cupid.”

“How would that help our favorite flannel-wearing duo?”

Charlie smiled. “Dean and Cas.”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow.

“Come on,” Charlie said, beaming now. “Most queer babes deny their sexuality for a long time. Dean’s done it more than most. Cas probably wasn’t even capable of love for centuries.”

Gabriel stared at her. She could nearly see the wheels turning in his head. “Or I could just put you to sleep again.”

“I have ‘Baby Shark’ queued up to run for the rest of time if I don’t turn it off in the next few minutes.”

Anger flared in Gabriel’s eyes, and for a moment, Charlie felt fear. This was an _angel_. An _archangel_. Cas had been powerful, sure. But this guy? She had a feeling he could mess with her brain and leave her drooling for eternity in seconds and not even get tired from doing it.

“I’m not sure we have the juice to make you a Cupid,” he said. “But we could use another angel. Assuming you’re not hellbent on destroying us?”

Charlie shook her head quickly. “Nope. Definitely not.”

Gabriel studied her for a few more intense seconds. “If we send you down as a ghost, you’ll probably get lost in the void. Casting souls out of heaven gets messy unless they’re beelining for hell.” He walked to her childhood bookshelf, idly running his hands over the _Harry Potter_ books. “But _maybe_ we could get you enough juice to go right to the boys.” He turned back to Charlie. “Do they have anything of yours?”

“If they have enough brain cells, they should have my laptop.”

“Think you’ve got a strong enough emotional connection to it to tether yourself to it?”

Charlie laughed. “Dude. Zelda is my favorite. I built her.”

“Zel--” Gabriel shook his head. “Fine.”

“Can you make me an angel after I’m a ghost?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Never tried making an angel out of a human soul.” His eyes sparkled. “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

“Great!” Charlie brushed her hands off on her jeans, suddenly nervous. “Let’s get going, then.”

“Easy, tiger,” Gabriel said. “This is gonna take time. Practice.” He gestured grandly. “Finesse. We gotta train you first.”

Charlie moved her eyebrows up and down. “Okay, then. Let’s get started.”

Gabriel sighed heavily. “Turn off that damn song first.” He handed her the ancient laptop.

“Deal.” Charlie got to work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dean**

Dean was definitely not a stranger to hangovers. Far from it. But this one? This was _special_. His mouth felt like sandpaper. His throat burned. If he even shifted in bed, his head throbbed. 

He sighed heavily. “Too bad, Winchester,” he grumbled to himself. “You’ve got work to do.” It took longer than usual to get out of bed and become coherent enough to go downstairs, but the smell of coffee definitely helped. He tried to walk down the stairs, but to call it a walk was generous. He felt like a zombie and had a hunch that he resembled one. 

Bobby’s expression confirmed it. “Morning, sleeping beauty.” 

Dean grunted. 

“Coffee’s ready.” Bobby’s eyes were keen and _way_ too awake for whatever time of day it was. “But I’m guessing you smelled that already?” 

Dean filled up his favorite mug, nodded his thanks, and took the first scalding hot sip. “Thanks,” he grumbled. 

“Don’t mention it.” Bobby spread out the newspaper on the table. “Didn’t hear anything from Sam’s room, did you?” 

Dean shook his head. “Think we should be worried?” 

“I think we should’ve been worried since he stabbed Cas in the back. There’s no way he’s doing any better now.” 

Cold tendrils of dread wrapped themselves around Dean’s heart. Bobby had a good point. Dean was hurting--was barely hanging on, to be honest. And his piñata was still in one piece. He glanced upstairs. “If he’s not up in an hour, I’ll get him.” 

“Give him two hours,” Bobby said. “It’s still early. Ish.” 

Dean checked his phone. “Seven a.m.? That’s early-ish now?” 

“Considering you boys drove for 23 hours straight, yeah, I’d call that early.” Bobby pointed to something in the newspaper. “Once the room stops spinning, read through this.” 

“Room ain’t spinning,” Dean grumbled. 

“Once the headache fades, then,” Bobby said. “I’m gonna grab some grub. Shouldn’t be gone too long.” Dean nodded and went back to drinking his coffee in peace and quiet. 

Unfortunately, peace and quiet didn’t really go together anymore. His thoughts danced between Charlie, Cas, and Sam. If he was this torn up, Sam...Sam must be worse. Sam had barely been keeping it together even before Charlie. How the _hell_ was he supposed to keep the crazy under control now? 

Dean glanced at the newspaper. The words swam a little. “Dammit,” he muttered, going back to his coffee. Caffeine. _Caffeine will dehydrate you just as much as alcohol_ , he remembered Cas telling him once. _You need water_. 

“Dammit,” he said a little more loudly. _Too_ loudly. His hungover brain wasn’t ready for that kind of volume, apparently. But he listened to the thought, to the memory. He got a glass and forced his bleary eyes to focus on the water filling it, forced himself to drink it all down in one go. He refilled his coffee mug and walked towards the stacks of books, thinking. 

Sam was going to need help. Incredibly powerful help. Dean had no idea who they could call on to put his brother together again, but there had to be someone. Or something. 

There had to be. 

Bobby came back with the promised grub. He put bread in the toaster. “Get a chance to look over that article?” 

Dean had two books on either side of him and one in front of him. He was still stuck at the table of contents. “Not yet.” 

“Think we might have some fairies nearby,” Bobby said. 

“ _Again_?” Dean asked, finally giving Bobby his full attention.

Bobby shrugged. “How’d you like to work a normal case? Once we handle the goons running around wearing you and your brother.” 

Dean groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Christ on a cracker. Forgot about those sons of bitches.” 

Bobby gave him an apologetic sort of half smile and shrugged. “Sorry, kid. Did...did you find new IDs? At her place?” 

Her place. Bobby couldn’t say her name yet. Dean shook his head, knowing he was adding salt to the wound. “Probably better that we didn’t. The Leviathan would’ve seen them, made them useless.” 

“Did they…” Bobby took a breath, stared at his coffee mug, and went to the liquor cabinet. Dean didn’t bother trying to hide his raised eyebrows. “You know it was Leviathan that got her?” 

Dean nodded. “They left a note.” 

“They _left_ a _note_?” 

Dean nodded again. “Yeah. Richard Roman Enterprises stationary.” 

“Well, what the hell did it say?” 

“Regards, Dick.” 

Bobby poured whiskey into his coffee. “Dick Roman?” 

“Ch…” Dean’s throat felt like it was closing up. He couldn’t say her name. “She said she thought he was their ringleader. Or at least maybe their boss was connected to Richard Roman Enterprises somehow.” 

Bobby stared at the table, eyes lost in thought. “He’s a smart pick. Rich. Powerful. He’s got plenty of connections.” 

“Yeah, that’s what Sammy was saying yesterday.” Dean took a sip of his coffee. A part of him wanted to ask for whiskey, but he knew that would mean a lecture, and it was too damn early for that. 

“How d’you think he’s doing?” Bobby asked carefully. 

Too tired to be anything but honest, Dean just shrugged. “No clue.” 

Bobby looked at the article again. “Maybe doing a normal job would be good for him.” 

Dean glared at him. “You really think we’ve got time for that?” He found Sam’s laptop and opened it, rubbing his eyes. “Bobby, Sam’s head is broken. We gotta fix him first.” 

Bobby set his jaw. There was a look in his eyes that Dean recognized. He’d seen it on plenty of people. It was the look of someone who’s lost hope, who’s accepted their fate. Or, in this case, accepted the fate of someone they loved.

“No,” Dean said, holding out a finger. He wasn’t _quite_ threatening Bobby, but he wasn’t _not_ threatening him, either. “Don’t say it.” 

Bobby looked unusually sympathetic. “Might be time to face the music, kid.” 

“No.” Dean shook his head, ignoring the headache that came with it. “No. I’m not losing Cas _and_ Charlie _and_ Sam.” His voice broke, and he drank more coffee to try to cover it up. “Not like this.” He finally looked up. “ _I can’t_ , Bobby.” His voice broke again. Tears threatened. Goddammit, it was too early for this shit. 

“Okay.” Bobby nodded slowly. “Okay.” He refilled his own coffee mug. “We’ll put the fairy thing on pause, then. But we gotta keep up with the Leviathan. Especially the ones wearing your ugly mugs.” He stared at Dean, who eventually gave in and looked back up at him. “I’ll see if I can find anything that’ll help Sam. You look into how to really kill the Leviathan. Fair?” 

The toaster went off. Dean stood and got the butter out of the fridge. “Yeah. Fair.”

“You should check on your brother.” 

Bobby’s gruff comment broke a comfortable silence. “You said we’d give him two hours.” 

“Yeah, and we gave him three.” 

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Shit.” He glanced at his watch. “Yeah, I’ll get him.” 

“Better bring a peace offering,” Bobby said. He tossed a protein bar and a water bottle to Dean. “Those should help. I’ll get more coffee going.” 

“Thanks,” Dean told him. He went up the stairs, his worry growing stronger with every step. Sam had been unstable before. Would he even wake up at all? Who would he be if he did wake up? 

Dean knocked on the door. “Sammy?” No response. Dean had figured as much. “Hope you’re decent,” he called loudly before opening the door. 

Sam’s giant frame was sprawled across the bed. Dean snorted to himself before lightly shoving Sam’s shoulder. “Sammy.” Nothing. Worry started to bloom into panic. Dean shook Sam’s shoulder more firmly. “Sammy. Sammy!” 

Sam’s eyes flew open, wild and confused. “Hey, hey, take it easy,” Dean told him. “Here.” He held out the bar and water bottle with a cheesy fake grin. “Breakfast. Bobby’s working on coffee.” 

Sam groaned but took them. “How long was I out?”

Dean checked his watch. “Fifteen hours, give or take.” 

“Fifteen,” Sam mumbled, opening the water bottle. “That’s a new record.” 

“Yeah, but so’s being awake for 24 when your head is…” Dean trailed off. “How is your head?” 

Sam chuckled humorlessly. “Pounding. Haven’t had whiskey in a while.” 

“And the rest of it?” 

Sam’s eyes went a little hazy. “Manageable.”

Dean crouched so he was in Sam’s line of sight. “You sure about that?” 

Sam’s eyes came back into focus and met Dean’s. He nodded. “I’m sure.” 

Dean knew his brother well enough to know that Sammy was lying out of his ass. But he also knew him well enough not to push it. “Okay. Bobby’s making coffee. Come on down when you’re ready.” 

Sam nodded and opened the protein bar. Dean walked out of his room and closed the door, exhaling when he was out of sight. 

Too much. Everything was too damn much. He breathed in through his nose and realized something reeked. 

Shit. When was the last time he’d showered? His scattered, tired brain tried to figure it out. Too long ago, he decided. He’d shower, then handle Sam. Then the Leviathan. In that order.

When Dean made his way downstairs again, Sam was drinking coffee and chatting with Bobby. For a half a heartbeat, Dean let himself believe that things were normal again. He let himself believe that Cas was a prayer away, that Charlie was sound asleep on the couch. Of course, none of it was true. And he hated himself for dreaming of it, but some part of him couldn’t help it. 

Thinking of Charlie made him think of her laptop and pushed him down the stairs a bit faster. Sam raised his coffee in a tired hello. 

Jesus, the kid looked like hell. Hollow. This...this wasn’t Sam. Not really. But there was no time to dwell on it, so Dean just kept going. “Find anything interesting?” 

“I just told Bobby we’ve figured out our lookalikes’ route,” Sam explained. 

“Following your cases,” Bobby said. “That’s gotta sting, but that’s the point.” He stared at Sam, then Dean. “You can’t go after them without new IDs.” 

“Looks like we don’t have to,” Sam said, mystified. He nodded at the TV and turned up the volume. 

“The Winchester killing spree has come to a violent end in Iowa,” the reporter said. 

Bobby’s eyebrows went up and stayed there. “Guess you’ve got a very powerful friend somewhere.”

“Doubt it,” Dean grumbled. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “That friend is gone.” 

Sam and Bobby exchanged a knowing look. Before either of them tried to talk about feelings again, Dean said, “Sammy, did you make any progress getting into her laptop?” 

“No,” Sam said. Guilt spread across his face. “Afraid I couldn’t stay awake much longer. I was gonna give it another crack today.” 

“Don’t bother,” Bobby said. “It’d be a waste of time. I know a guy who might be a match for it. If nothing else, he can give you boys new IDs. The whole damn country might think you’re dead, but that’s no reason to be stupid.” 

Dean nodded. “Who’s the guy?” 

“Frank Devereaux. Batshit crazy and paranoid, but he’s good at this kinda stuff. And he owes me.” Bobby tossed Dean a set of keys. “Go. Don’t do or say anything stupid. If he says something crazy, best to just smile and nod.” 

Sam’s eyebrows went up. Dean just nodded. “Okay. Sammy, whenever you’re ready.”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” Sam said, chugging the rest of his coffee. “Be right back.” 

When he was out of earshot, Dean asked Bobby, “He’s okay?” 

“Either okay or faking it like a pro. Which isn’t out of the question,” Bobby told him. 

Dean shrugged. “Where’s Frank’s place anyway?” 

Bobby rattled off the address, and Dean mentally mapped the route. He didn’t know Colorado as well as South Dakota or Nebraska, but he knew it well enough. 

“Wonder who ganked the Leviathan,” Bobby mumbled once they’d sorted out the directions. 

“Dunno, but we owe them. Big time.” Dean fought the urge to reach for a beer. “And I’d love to know how they did it.” 

Bobby nodded. Sam came down the stairs two at a time, laptop bag slung over his shoulder. “Ready.” 

Dean started walking towards the door. “Let’s roll.” 

“If you’re not back in a day, I’ll send a search party,” Bobby said. 

Dean and Sam snorted but didn’t respond. Bobby’s unsaid message was clear as day: 

_I’m not losing another kid._

Charlie’s laptop rested in a bag in the backseat. Sam kept turning around as Dean drove. 

“Dude, it’s not gonna grow wings and fly away,” Dean said. 

“I know.” Sam turned around. “I just…” 

Dean chewed on the question burning in his mouth before biting the bullet. “You seeing things?” 

Sam’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah. But it’s manageable.” 

“If it stops being manageable, you tell me. Got it?” When Sam didn’t respond, Dean stared right at him. “Got it?” 

The car behind him honked. He’d missed the light turning green. “Fuck you too,” Dean muttered under his breath. 

“Dean, what’ll you do if it stops being manageable?” Sam asked. Dean heard the same kind of soul-deep tiredness in his brother’s voice that he’d felt just the day before. “You can’t cure me. If Cas were around--” 

“Don’t,” Dean said, anger suddenly flaring white-hot. “Don’t say his name.” 

Sam’s eyebrows and hands went up in surrender. “Okay. But that’s the kind of juice we’ll need to cure me. And all the angels who worked with us are dead, right?” 

Balthazar. Gabriel. Cas. Jesus, they really were all dead. 

“I say we take things one day at a time.” Sam gave Dean an impatient look. “Okay?” 

Dean exhaled. “Fine. But I swear to God, Sammy, if things get worse--” 

“I’ll tell you. Scout’s honor.” 

Dean snorted. “That might actually mean something if either of us had been in the freaking Boy Scouts.” 

Sam laughed lightly. “Yeah.” He messed with the radio. “What music do you want?” 

“Zeppelin, Sammy. Always Zeppelin.” 

Sam rolled his eyes but found the station. For the rest of the ride, it almost felt like old times. Almost felt like driving to any other job. 

Almost.

“Bobby wasn’t kidding about this guy,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam muttered back. 

Sam had a good point. In the five minutes they’d known him, Frank had already threatened to shoot them and rambled about how the government had cloned them. He didn’t need to know exactly what the Leviathans were. He just needed to make sure the Leviathan couldn’t trace Sam and Dean anymore. And, with any luck, hack into Charlie’s laptop. 

“Who did you say this belonged to?” Frank asked. 

“Our sister,” Sam said. 

Frank typed furiously before whistling. “Your sister? Seriously? How could someone this brilliant be related to you two boneheads?” 

Anger flared in Dean--again. He opened his mouth to say something, but Sam jumped in first. “She was adopted.”

Frank nodded, still focused on the laptop. “That makes more sense.” 

Sam gave Dean a death glare. “Stay. Calm,” he said in a tense whisper. 

It took all of Dean’s self-control to not roll his eyes. He settled for giving Sam a flat look. For the millionth time, he missed Charlie. 

“She made it a game,” Frank said in a wondering tone. He grinned and cracked his knuckles. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s see what you got.” 

A sudden chill went through the air. “What the…” Dean said. 

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” 

There she was. Bright red bob cut, graphic tee under a checkered flannel. Eyes bright as ever, if a little distracted. 

“Charlie?” Dean choked out. 

She grinned at her boys. “Sup, bitches?” She looked at Frank. “Move.” 

Frank was, for the first time since they’d met him, speechless. His jaw had dropped like a cartoon character, and it stayed down as he gestured for Charlie to type in her passwords. 

“Charlie...how are you--” Sam started. 

“I don’t have much time,” she said. She spun the computer around and handed it to Sam. “This document has all my passwords. Share it with anyone and you will regret it forever.” She flickered like a fading projection. “I’m running out of time.” She looked at Sam, then Dean. “I love you. Both of you.” She took a breath. “And Cas is alive.” 

“ _What_?” Sam demanded.

She glanced up. “Aaaand, that’s my cue. Later, bitches.” She was gone. 

Sam turned very, very slowly to look at Dean. Frank’s eyes followed Sam’s. Both men’s eyebrows were up, their jaws down. Dean was too shocked to respond. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Dean**

Cas is alive. 

Charlie is a ghost.

“Anybody wanna tell me what the hell that was?” Frank asked several long seconds later. Or maybe it was minutes. Dean had lost time due to shock. 

_Snap out of it, Winchester._ “Charlie,” Dean said. 

“Charlie. Charlie, who owned this computer?” 

Dean nodded. 

“You said she was dead.” Frank’s eyes flew from Dean’s to Sam’s and back. “She’s dead, right?” 

“She’s dead,” Sam confirmed. 

“Then how the hell was she here?” Frank yelled, arms flailing.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Sam said, gently leading Frank to a chair. Dean let the talk Sam was undoubtedly giving Frank turn into background noise. Sammy knew what he was doing. They’d given “the talk” to plenty of people, and Sammy was better with feelings, anyway. So Dean focused on the laptop. He ignored how his hands were shaking and started scrolling. 

“Holy shit,” he said. “Sammy, you gotta see this.” 

Sam mumbled a few more things to Frank. Dean saw Sam clap Frank’s shoulder from his peripheral vision before he joined Dean. “What’ve we got?” 

Dean tilted the laptop towards his brother. “Lots and lots of dirt on Dick.” 

Sam’s eyebrows rose until they disappeared into his hair. “He’s buying up land. Tons of it. A whole town in Oregon.” Sam’s eyebrows came together in a frown. “What the hell?” 

“We gotta get this to Bobby,” Dean said, closing the laptop. 

“Not so fast,” Frank interrupted. Dean started a little--he’d forgotten Frank was there. “You two still need new headshots and credit cards, right? I’d say you need to toss the golden child’s laptop, but she’s made it nearly untraceable.” Frank shook his head in admiration before looking up at Sam. “Yours, on the other hand…” 

Sam sighed heavily and handed it over. Twenty minutes later, they were all set up with a new laptop and several brand-new IDs and credit cards. 

“What do we owe ya, Frank?” Dean asked. 

“Just one thing,” he said, holding up a finger. Sam and Dean waited. Frank glared at each of them in turn. “Never--never--come and find me again. Clones, I can handle. Government conspiracies? Fine. But this...this _magic_ mumbo-jumbo?” He made some gesture that Dean could only assume was meant to ward off the evil eye. “Nuh-uh. Nope. I’m done. I’m out.” He slammed the door shut. 

“Uh, thank you!” Dean called from the front steps. No response. He looked at Sam and shrugged. “Come on. We gotta tell Bobby.”

“Dean…” Sam said hesitantly. “She was really here, right?” They walked to the old pickup truck. 

“Charlie?” Dean asked. He got into the truck, gingerly putting Charlie’s laptop bag in the back seat. 

Sam nodded. His eyes were dark, worried. Ice-cold dread crept through Dean. If he was freaking out, and his marbles were still in one place...how the fuck was Sam not staring into space and drooling? 

“Hey.” Dean grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “She was here. I don’t know how, ‘cuz she got a bona fide hunter’s funeral and everything. But she was here.” 

“And Cas is alive?” Sam asked, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. 

Dean’s hand fell. “That’s what the ghost of our little sister said, yeah.” 

Sam nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll call Bobby, fill him in.” 

Dean nodded and pulled out of Frank’s driveway. 

“Or,” Sam said, spinning his phone in his hand idly. 

“Or?” 

“Or we tell him in person.” Sam shrugged. “We’re not far, anyway.” 

Dean grinned. “You wuss. You don’t want to tell him over the phone.” 

“I want to see his face and make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.” 

“Like what?” 

Sam snorted. “Like try to call Charlie immediately. He’s gotta have a Ouiji board or something somewhere.” 

Dean snorted. “Bobby with a Ouiji board. That’d be a sight.” 

“Yeah,” Sam said, smiling lightly. “So, we’ll tell him when we get there?” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” 

A few seconds of comfortable silence passed before Sam asked, “So, do you want to talk about it?” 

“Talk about what?” 

“ _Any_ of it,” Sam said with a light half-laugh. “Charlie being a ghost. All the Leviathan stuff on her laptop. Cas being alive.” 

Dean’s stomach and jaw clenched. He shook his head. “Bobby’s gonna have plenty to say. Let’s just talk about it then.” 

“You sure? ‘Cause--”

“Drop it, Sammy,” Dean said in a tight voice. He couldn’t make eye contact with Sam, even though he felt those hazel eyes boring into him. Sammy was constantly questioning what was real. How would he react if he realized his big brother was barely hanging on? 

Sam leaned back in his seat. “Fine.” He fiddled with the radio until classic rock came on and, mercifully, kept his mouth shut. 

Cas was alive. _Cas was alive?!_ The thought, the idea, sparked more emotions more quickly than Dean could possibly sort out. Dean didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to feel. Other than pissed the hell off. He’d been grieving Cas and the dumb son of a bitch had been alive the whole damn time?!

A car honked at him. “Yeah, screw you, too,” he said tightly, focusing back on the road. Focusing back on the present and not the hurricane of emotions brewing inside of him. 

One task, one mile marker, one minute at a time. 

“Well?” Bobby asked, barely looking up from his computer. 

“We got what we needed,” Dean started. 

“And?” When Dean didn’t respond, Bobby said, “You look like the cat that swallowed the canary. Spit it out, Dean.” 

Dean set Charlie’s laptop bag down. “ _Charlie_ showed up.” 

Bobby slowly put his coffee mug back down on the table. Dean had a feeling he would have dropped it if he’d done his usual careless slam. “Charlie showed up?” 

Sam nodded to confirm. 

Bobby pressed his hands into the table. “ _How_?” he wondered. His head snapped up, blue eyes locking with Dean’s. “How? What could she be tethered to?” 

Recognition clicked in Dean’s head. “Her laptop. Frank was trying to hack it.” 

Bobby snorted. “Of course she came back for that.” He shook his head, the slightest shadow of a fond smile on his face. “Of course she did.” 

“But doesn’t that mean she’s trapped here?” Sam asked. 

Bobby exhaled heavily. “Maybe. But we gave her a hunter’s funeral.” He took a deep breath. “Anything good on her laptop?” 

“If you count more files of dirt on Dick than you could imagine, yeah,” Sam said. “We only skimmed the first file or two, but it seems like he’s buying land. Lots of it.”

“That can’t be good,” Bobby grumbled. 

“That’s not everything,” Dean said. He took a breath to brace himself. “ _Cas_ is alive.” 

He didn’t mean to emphasize the angel’s name, didn’t mean to put any emotion into that sentence. But some slipped out anyway. He figured that emotion had something to do with the way Sam and Bobby’s eyebrows looked like they were trying to join forces with their hairlines. 

“Cas is alive?” Bobby asked. “ _How_?”

Dean shrugged. “Dunno.” 

“Where the hell is he?” “Don’t know that, either. Charlie must’ve run out of ghost juice or something. Said she had to go.” Some small part of Dean was proud of how calm he seemed--or at least convinced himself he seemed. If he actually articulated how he felt or what he was thinking, it wouldn’t be pretty.

Bobby exhaled in a heavy rush. “Ok. Ok, then. Charlie’s a ghost, and Cas is alive.” He started rummaging around in a box. “I’ve got one of those Ouiji board things somewhere around here.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dean asked. 

“Why not?” Bobby snapped. The quiet apology in his eyes softened his words. 

Dean pursed his lips. “She seemed like she was answering to someone or something. I don’t know. She said she was running out of time.” 

“Well, she’s a new ghost. Probably didn’t have the juice to stick around.” 

“Right before she left, she said, ‘And that’s my cue,’” Sam said quietly. His eyebrows were pulled together in worry. “I think we should leave her alone for now. She knows how to contact us if she needs to.” He opened her laptop. “There’s plenty to go through here.” 

Bobby walked over, squinting at the screen. “You ain’t kidding.” He took a deep breath. “All right. Fine. Let’s see what dirt we have on Dick.” 

“You do that.” Dean checked his pocket for his new IDs and cards. “I’m going for a milk run.”

“Like hell you are,” Bobby said. 

Dean held up his hands. “What the hell was the point of getting these if we’re gonna be stuck here anyway?” 

“Give it some time,” Bobby said. He stared at Dean for a second longer than usual. Dean wondered what was going through his head. Probably nothing good. “I’ll go on the milk run. What were you gonna get?” 

Dean shrugged. “The usual. Beer. Whiskey. Pie.” 

Sam snorted but stayed focused on Charlie’s laptop. 

“Shut up,” Dean told him. 

Bobby nodded. “Okay. I’ll get ‘em. You two _stay_ _put_. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“Got it,” Sam said, not even looking up. Dean gave Bobby a mock salute. Bobby shook his head and mumbled “Idjits” before walking out the door.

Dean walked over to the table and closed Charlie’s laptop. Sam jumped. 

“You ok, Sammy?” 

“Fine,” Sam said, blinking a few times. “You just surprised me. There’s a lot of good stuff in here.” 

“I’m sure.” Dean pulled up a chair across from Sam. “How’re you holding up?” 

Sam smiled, but his eyebrows pressed together. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “We had Charlie’s funeral yesterday. We just saw what had to be her ghost.” 

“And Cas is alive,” Sam added. 

Dean choked down the rush of emotions that threatened to explode out of him. “Yeah. That too.” 

Sam’s eyebrows relaxed, and his smile grew. 

“Shut up. Trying to ask if your melon’s okay, is all.” 

The laughter in Sam’s eyes faded. “You just asked me about this, Dean.” 

“That was before Charlie showed up.” 

Sam’s stubborn expression stayed. “It’s fine.” 

“Sammy.” 

“It’s fine,” Sam insisted, looking up at Dean. “I’m managing it.”

Dean stared at his brother, trying to find any hint that he might be lying. Nothing. “Fine. But if you can’t--”

“I’ll tell you,” Sam said in a slightly petulant tone. Dean suddenly saw Sam’s teenage self in the moose of a man in front of him. Dammit, he loved this stubborn son of a bitch. Not that he’d ever say that out loud, but Sam knew. 

Speaking of things he wanted to say out loud…he had a bone to pick with Cas. Several, actually. 

As if Sam could read his mind, he carefully said, “Wonder where Cas is.” 

Dean clenched his teeth. 

“I mean, I’m wondering about other things too. How the hell he’s alive, why he didn’t find us--”

“Probably knows we’d kill him if he showed up.” 

Sam’s eyes went wide. “Really? You’d kill him?” 

“He cracked your piñata, Sam. And he brought the frigging Leviathans.” 

“And he apologized. And he only broke into purgatory to save us from living through the apocalypse again.” 

Dean looked at his little brother like he’d grown an extra head. “Seriously?”

Sam shrugged. “I mean, he fucked up. I’m not saying he didn’t. But I get why. Besides, holding a grudge is pointless.” 

Dean snorted. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.” 

Sam nodded. “Right. Of course you don’t. Because that’s healthy.” 

Dean’s patience and ability to continue the conversation were rapidly disappearing. He went to the fridge. “Pretty sure we still had a beer or two left this morning,” making it as clear as possible that he was _done_ talking about Cas. He didn’t bother turning around to see the judgmental face he knew Sam was making. Sammy didn’t need beer to cope. Maybe it wasn’t healthy. It definitely wasn’t healthy. But Dean was more than overwhelmed. 

Before Sam’s judgy face turned into judgy words, Bobby came in. “I’ve got grub and liquor.” 

“Any chance you got pie?” Dean asked, intentionally keeping the hope out of his voice. 

“Who the hell do you think I am?” Bobby asked. But a small smile was curling the edges of his lips. He showed Sam and Dean an entire key lime pie. 

“Hello, beautiful,” Dean said, taking the pie. He looked at Bobby, whose smile had reached his eyes. “Thanks, Bobby.” 

The older hunter clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder briefly before dealing with the rest of the food. 

“Anything interesting happening out there?” Sam asked. 

“Nah.” Bobby opened a beer. “Learn anything new here?” 

“Just more of the same.” Sam came into the kitchen, taking the beer Bobby gave him. “They’ve got something big planned. I just don’t get why they’re buying up so much land.” 

“We’ll get there.” Bobby leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “I’m gonna make some calls. See if I can figure out where Cas is.” 

“You sure about that?” Dean asked, his voice and muscles tense.

Some sort of sad understanding passed through Bobby’s eyes. “He said he’d fix Sam. Let’s find out if the bastard will keep his word.” 

Suddenly, Dean’s perspective on the whole situation flipped, almost making him dizzy. Cas could fix Sam. Yeah, the simmering anger was still there and probably wouldn’t go anywhere for a long time. But if Cas could fix Sam…

“I can help with the calls,” Dean offered. 

Bobby waved his offer away, getting out bread and sandwich fillings. “Don’t bother. I’ll figure that out. You and Sam get to the bottom of the Leviathan business. The sooner we can figure out what their endgame is, the sooner we can stop it.” 

Dean nodded. 

Sam went to bed almost immediately after dinner. Not wanting to get caught up in another feelings chat with Bobby, Dean did the same. 

He walked into his room, closed the door, and sighed heavily. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” he said. No response. 

“You son of a bitch,” he muttered, lighting the candle that was still on the mantle. It flickered at first, struggling to light. He wondered if that’s how Charlie had felt earlier that day--struggling to help, to stay present, to not get called away by whatever power took her from them. 

“Okay,” he said, running a hand down his face. “Cas? Can you hear me?” 

No response. 

“Radio silence? Really?” 

Still nothing.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “Fine.” He started walking towards the bed, putting his beer on the nightstand. “Actually, you know what?” he asked, waving a finger up at the sky. “Not fine. None of this bullshit is anything even remotely _close_ to fine! Do you have any idea the kind of mess you left behind?” He turned on his heel and started pacing, ticking problems off on his fingers as he listed them. “Sam’s head is still broken. The Leviathans are nearly impossible to kill. Those sons of bitches copied _my_ face _and_ Sam’s, and now _Baby_ is _sidelined_. I can’t even drive my friggin’ car, man!” He exhaled heavily. “And I can’t even yell at you in person. I can’t even fucking tell you how fucking pissed off I am, or how much…” His voice broke. Tears threatened. “Charlie _died_ , Cas.” The tears started to fall. “Sammy and I couldn’t get to her in time. If you’d been here, you could’ve zapped us to her. Or you could’ve gone on your own and healed her up. Or brought her here before the fucking Leviathans…” He choked on the word, but he had to say it. “Before they killed her.” He looked up at the ceiling, at the ancient ceiling fan that definitely had a solid layer of dust. “We needed you, man. Where the hell are you? And how the hell are you even _alive_?” A dry, humorless chuckle escaped from his chest. “You shouldn’t be alive. I saw you. I saw you walk into that damn reservoir. I saw the way the black snot they have for blood was oozing out of you. You fucking exploded, man.” Dean’s voice cracked, and he drank some beer to soothe his throat. Not that it worked, but he could pretend. Dean Winchester was good at pretending a lot of things. Pretending losing Cas and Charlie didn’t feel like his legs were cut out from under him. Pretending he wasn’t so deeply affected by either of them coming back. 

“I still have your stupid trenchcoat in the car,” he said, his voice significantly quieter. “So, you know, if you ever get up the guts to actually face me and Sam, come and get it. I know you doodled all over our ribs, but we’re with Bobby. You can find him, at least.” He started pacing again. “And figure out what the hell happened to Charlie, while you’re making amends or whatever. Would be great to know how she showed up randomly and disappeared.” He closed his eyes, refusing to say the words that were echoing in his heart. 

_I miss you. Come home._

Instead, he said, “And you promised you’d fix Sam. So get your ass over here and fix the mess you made.” He stormed over to the candle and almost blew it out. It flickered. He exhaled softly, and it flickered again. 

No. No, he didn’t actually need to blow it out. It could stay lit--at least for a little while. Maybe something about keeping the connection open would bring Cas to them. Or maybe, if nothing else, it would make up for all of the words Dean couldn’t quite say. 

“Found him,” Bobby said the next afternoon. 

Sam’s eyebrows went up as Dean’s heart started a friggin’ marching band parade in his chest. “That didn’t take long.” 

“Missouri caught wind of some faith healer. Name’s Emmanuel.” 

“We sure it’s Cas?” Dean asked. 

Bobby shrugged. “Not exactly. But she said whatever he does works. A friend of hers had cancer. Terminal. This Emmanuel character touched her head, and she was healed.” 

“What did he look like?” Sam asked. 

“Uh…” Bobby looked awkward. “According to Missouri’s friend? Dreamy.” 

Sam snorted. Dean tried not to choke on his coffee. “Dreamy, huh?” he asked once he could breathe again. 

Bobby threw up his hands. “Her words, not mine. Blue eyes, dark brown hair. Tall.” 

“That fits a whole lot of people, Bobby,” Dean reminded him. 

“I know.” Bobby shrugged. “But whoever he is, he’s only a few hours away.” 

Dean chugged the rest of his coffee, ignoring the way it burned his throat. “Okay. You guys stay here.” 

“What? No,” Sam said. 

“No reason for you to go on a wild goose chase,” Dean told his brother.

“No reason for you to go back into the world without backup,” Sam said. “And if it is Cas, you know somebody will be after him. Angels, demons, Leviathans, maybe all of ‘em.” He stared stubbornly at Dean. “I’m going.” 

Dean glared at him. When Sam didn’t back down, he turned to Bobby. “You gonna help me on this?” 

Bobby pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Not this time, kid. If it is Cas, he could probably fix Sam. And I’d rather put our humpty dumpty back together ASAP instead of waiting. Wouldn’t you?” 

Dean frowned. Dammit. Bobby was right. “Fine. Sam, we’re leaving in five.” 

“What’s the rush?” Bobby asked. 

Dean couldn’t explain it. He couldn’t tell Bobby how his nerves were making him feel like he was facing a pack of werewolves. Or how he felt like a runner at the starting line, waiting for the gun to go off and the race to begin. So he just shrugged instead. “No real reason. Just want to get this over with.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Sure.” 

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean said roughly. “Would a half an hour give you enough time to primp and preen, princess?” 

Sam shrugged. “Only if you shower first. And maybe shave. Or put on something that doesn’t have holes in it.” 

Dean flipped his brother off before walking away. “Not trying to impress anyone, Sammy. That’s what the Fed suits are for.” 

_Liar liar pants on fire_ , said a little voice in his head that sounded distinctly like Charlie.

 _Shut up_ , he told it. There was no reason to try to impress anyone. No reason to wear one of his nicer flannel shirts. It was just Sam. 

And Cas. Or maybe Cas. 

No reason not to, either.

He started planning out the lecture he’d give the stupid angel when he finally saw him. Thinking about that was a hell of a lot easier than trying to understand the stupid churning feeling in his stomach. No, churning was the wrong word. It was lighter. Halfway through his shower, he figured it out. 

Butterflies. Thinking of seeing Cas gave him fucking butterflies. 

_What the actual fuck??_

“All yours!” Dean called down the stairs. He completely ignored his emotions and scrubbed the towel over his hair. “It’s just Cas, Winchester,” he told himself as he got dressed. “Just Cas. Might not even be Cas.” 

_But you hope it’s Cas_ , said that little Charlie-like voice in his head. It sounded so much like her that Dean couldn’t help it. He spun around. “Charlie?” he asked quietly. Nothing. No chill, nothing moving, no breeze. Nothing. 

“Maybe _my_ head’s a little cracked,” he muttered to himself as he pulled on a T-shirt.

“Ready to go?” Sam asked, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

Dean frowned at him. “What do you think you’ll need that for?” 

Sam shrugged. “Never know.” 

“Be careful,” Bobby said. “Remember--you’re supposed to be dead. Try not to stop or talk to anyone if you don’t have to.” 

“We know, Bobby,” Sam said. 

“And if it ain’t Cas, maybe he can heal you anyway,” Bobby said. 

Dean nodded, ignoring every instinct that told him it was Cas. It had to be. “Worth a shot.” 

“Call when you find somewhere to stay tonight, all right?” Bobby asked. His voice got just a hair less gruff. “Don’t make me come after you.” 

“We’re grown men, Bobby. We can handle this,” Dean said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. 

“I don’t give a damn. Call me when you find somewhere to stay.” His eyes were hard and determined. Dean knew that look. It meant fighting was pointless. 

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Jeez.” 

“We’ll call,” Sam promised. They got into Bobby’s truck and drove out of the dirt driveway, heading west. 

**Sam**

Sam let Dean drive for a full half an hour before talking. “So.” 

Dean frowned. “So?” He gave him his standard “the fuck?” expression before his eyes went back to the road. 

“So, we’re about to see Cas.” 

Dean didn’t say anything. 

“For the first time since we saw him die,” Sam said. 

Still nothing. Sam exhaled heavily. Talking to Dean about feelings was usually as productive as talking to a stone, but he had to try. He didn’t know how Dean was feeling, but murderous was definitely a possibility. “I hope it’s Cas.” 

Dean snorted. “You sure about that?” 

Sam nodded. “I’m sure.” 

“Sam,” Dean said, turning and looking right at his brother. His green eyes were hard. “He broke the wall. He’s the reason you’re seeing shit that ain’t there.” 

Sam saw Lucifer waving in the rearview mirror. He’d made himself comfortable in the backseat of the truck. Sam pointedly ignored him. “I know. But he also tried to save us.”

“Sam, we’ve been over this already,” Dean said. Sam heard the warning in his tone but ignored it. This was going to be awkward. He and Dean would both hate it. But Sam wanted to be prepared if Dean decided to try to kill Cas. 

“We have. I just want to make sure you don’t stab him the second we see him.”

Dean frowned again. “Why the hell would I do that?” 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I can think of a couple reasons. Like what you said yesterday.” 

“What did I say yesterday?” Dean shook his head, and Sam noticed just how tired he looked. “Yesterday feels like a long time ago.” 

“You told me you’d kill Cas if you saw him.” Sam watched Dean carefully for his reaction. All he saw were fingers clenching around the steering wheel, knuckles going white. “I forgive him, Dean. Can’t you?” 

Dean’s whole body tensed. “It’s not that simple, Sammy.”

“He apologized.” 

Dean frowned and glanced at his brother. “How do you know about that? Thought Lucifer was holding you hostage in a storage closet.” 

“Bobby filled me in,” Sam said, ignoring Lucifer’s huge grin behind them. “Who are you really helping by staying mad?” 

Dean didn’t respond, but his shoulders relaxed just a hair.

“We need him, Dean.”

His big brother was quiet and unusually pensive. “I know.” His face softened, as did his tone. “But he broke your head, Sam. He unleashed these crazy monsters that are damn near impossible to kill. He left a mess, apologized, and fucking died. But apparently he’s back?” 

And there was the crack in Dean’s voice. There was the sign that the older Winchester had had enough--enough loss, pain, grief. They’d both had enough. Dean looked back at Sam, who was startled by just how much pain was in his big brother’s green eyes. “If Cas is really back, why the hell hasn’t he found us? Why the hell hasn’t he reached out?” 

Sam shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Dean. We can ask him when we find him.”

Dean nodded, but the pained look didn’t leave his face. “He wasn’t even around to help us save--” Dean turned his face to the side. Sam watched his shoulders rise and fall. Deep inhale, deep exhale. 

“I know,” he said. “I’m sure there was a reason. This is Cas, Dean. He rebelled against heaven for us.” Sam shook his head, lost in thought. “There must be a reason.” 

“It better be a good one,” Dean grumbled. For a few heartbeats, neither hunter spoke. Then Dean broke the silence with a softer tone. “I brought an angel blade, Sammy. But not for Cas.” He exhaled heavily, through his nose. “His trenchcoat is in the back. If he wants it.” 

Sam smiled. That was enough. If Dean had packed the trenchcoat, he was at least almost ready to welcome Cas back into the family. And almost ready was good enough.

**Dean**

Dean hated talking about feelings. He _hated_ it. But in spite of everything, he was glad Sam brought it up. He was right. If the mystery healer they were driving towards really was Cas, he must have a reason for staying away. Hell--maybe Dean was the reason. Maybe Cas knew Dean wouldn’t want to see him, or would seriously consider killing him. His rant to the candle flame last night definitely left that impression--if Cas had even been listening. 

But talking to Sam had taken the edge off of his white-hot anger, and it revealed a whole shitstorm of feelings that Dean would never admit to anyone. Being pissed at Cas was easier than the shitstorm. Anger was a familiar emotion. But the gut-wrenching pain? The sense of betrayal so strong that Dean could barely breathe through it? The sense of loss that brought tears to his eyes if he thought about it too long? No. Sam couldn’t know about that. He would jump to conclusions about other feelings Dean might have--feelings Dean was determined to avoid at all costs. He’d decided a long time ago to keep those feelings and everything they meant to himself, to carry that particular secret to his grave. If it was even true; if those feelings were even real.

They pulled up in front of a beautiful Tudor-style home. Dean stepped out of the car and reached in the back seat for the angel blade. 

“Dude. What the hell are you doing?” Sam asked in a low voice. 

Dean waved at the line of cars in the driveway. “We don’t know who’s an angel, a human, a demon--”

“Leave it,” Sam said. “People thought we were mass murderers a few days ago, remember? Carrying around a friggin’ angel blade won’t help us.” 

“I was gonna hide it,” Dean muttered. But he closed the trunk, sparing one quick glance for the trenchcoat first. 

The front door was open, and there was a line of people on the front steps. “Come on,” Sam said. 

Dean barely registered anything as they walked and waited in line. He was lost in thought, lost in the way his heart refused to stop pounding in his chest. He tried to tell himself it was just adrenaline--the same kind of adrenaline rush he’d get before a case. If the healer dude wasn’t Cas, they’d probably have to kill him. That’s all the jittery nerves were. Just his body reacting the way it always did before a fight. 

_Liar,_ said that damn voice that sounded just like Charlie.

It took all of Dean’s self-control to not tell it to shut up. 

“Dude. Chill,” Sam said. 

Dean glared at him. “I _am_ chill.”

“You’re jumpy. It makes us look suspicious. Chill.” 

Dean grumbled but listened. Sam stood up straight, giving himself an extra inch or so of height that he used to look over the crowd. “See anything interesting?” Dean asked. 

Sam shook his head. “No. Nothing yet.” 

Someone walked past them with a dreamy smile on her face. “Excuse me, ma’am?” Dean asked. She was a little startled, but the dreamy smile stayed. “Can you tell me anything about Emmanuel?” 

She glowed. “He’s the real deal, honey.” She took his hand. “He’ll help you. I’m sure of it.” She squeezed his hand before letting it go. 

“Great,” Dean complained. “Nothing new, no details.” 

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Sam said. The line moved forward, and they stepped inside. A woman closed the door behind them. She announced to the group, “Welcome, everyone. I’m Charity, Emmanuel’s wife.”

Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Wife? If Emmanuel was Cas, then Cas had a _wife_?

She continued. “Emmanuel is beginning to get tired. He can help you folks, but you’re the last ones for today.” Her eyes grew wider when she saw Sam and Dean. “You boys look just like--”

“The Winchesters?” Sam asked easily. “Yeah, we get that a lot. Don’t worry--we’re harmless.” He gave her his most winning smile, and she relaxed and walked away. 

“Good one,” Dean said. 

“Practiced it in my head a little,” Sam admitted. He frowned down at Dean. “You okay, man? You’re kind of pale.” 

Dean swallowed. His heart hadn’t slowed down in the slightest. “Fine.” 

“Bullshit.” 

The line moved forward again, but they were still too far back to see the healer. Dean rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “I want Emmanuel to heal me first. Make sure it’ll actually work.” 

Sam frowned. “Okay. Heal what, exactly? Your liver? Some broken bone that didn’t heal right?” 

Dean tapped his leg. “I, uh, took the cast off early.” 

Alarm flickered across Sam’s face. “Why the hell did you do that?” 

“In case you forgot, genius, you ran away. I had to come and get you. Couldn’t drive with that stupid cast on.” 

Sam opened his mouth to fight back, but someone in front of them gave them a death glare. Apparently they were supposed to wait for Emmanuel quietly. Great. Exactly what Dean needed: a chance to be alone with his thoughts and feelings. 

God fucking dammit. 

The walls felt like they were threatening to close in on him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was probably experiencing the beginnings of a panic attack. _Why?_ Why now? If it wasn’t Cas…

Dean closed his eyes and actually named the waves in the swirling storm of feelings boiling in his chest. If it wasn’t Cas, he’d be pissed and devastated. Pissed that he’d gotten his hopes up for nothing, and devastated that Cas was really gone. If it _was_ Cas…

Hope rose and bloomed hard and strong and fast. They moved forward again, just far enough that they could see the healer. Dean saw a man pressing his hand to an elderly woman’s forehead. A man with dark brown hair and shoulders broad and strong enough that his blue dress shirt was pulled taut between them. The man’s eyes opened. Crystal clear, fucking perfect blue eyes. 

_Cas_.


	5. Chapter 5

Adrenaline flooded through Dean. His jaw dropped. Time seemed to freeze. _By_ _God_ , _he looked the same_. Undressed, even, without the trench coat or suit jacket or tie. But the messy brown hair, the bluest of blue eyes, were the same. Dean’s heart jumped into overdrive. Confusion warred with joy, relief, surprise. And pain. No, not just pain--heartache. All of the questions he and Sam had kept asking rushed to the forefront of his mind. Why hadn’t Cas reached out? Why hadn’t he told them he was back? _Alive_? Well? 

Why was he married to a woman? 

_Why was he married to a woman?_

Time restarted. Cas smiled, and Dean’s stomach twisted. Something was wrong. That smile was too easy, too...human. Cas looked back at the man in front of him. There was only one more person in line before Sam and Dean had to face him.

“Sam?” Dean asked quietly, not even realizing he was asking for support. His knees felt weak. Why did his knees feel weak? Why the hell wouldn’t his heart stop pounding? 

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam said quietly, so no one else could hear him. “It’s him.” 

The world came back into crystal clear focus. Dean forced himself to take deep breaths. In for four, out for four. Nice and quiet so no one else would know. He focused on what they’d ask Emmanuel. Dean’s leg hadn’t fully healed from a very bad break. That’s all. He just had to ask Cas to heal his leg. 

The man in front of them walked away. Cas stood, holding out a hand. That too-easy smile was still on his face. “Hi. I’m Emmanuel. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Dean felt like someone had kicked the wind out of him. The joy and relief shattered. Cas was looking into his eyes, but there was no recognition. There was polite curiosity and general warmth. None of Cas’ intensity. _He doesn’t remember me?_

Sam intercepted the handshake. “I’m Sam. This is my brother, Dean.” 

Cas looked back at Dean, and the stabbing pain came back. The shattered pieces of joy and relief inside of him twisted. Cas held out his hand. 

Dean forced himself to shake Cas’ hand and smile. “Nice to meet you, C--Emmanuel.” 

It was a friendly, courteous handshake. But that was all. Cas let go, and Dean suddenly felt cold. He clenched his jaw. _Pull yourself together, you son of a bitch. Why do you care, anyway?_

Emmanuel nodded. “Likewise.” He stepped back and looked at both of them. “How can I help you, friends? Are you looking for healing?” Cas asked, that warm and empty smile still on his face. His eyes drifted from Sam’s to Dean’s, showing absolutely no recognition.

Cas had no idea who they were.

Dean suddenly wanted to punch him. He’d never hated the word _friend_ before. But hearing Cas--Emmanuel--say it in that awful tone...he _hated_ it. It was wrong. Every damn thing about this was wrong. 

**“** You both seem to be in nearly ideal physical condition,” Emmanuel continued, “but many illnesses hide under the surface.” 

Shame clawed at Dean’s throat. _I must be sick_ , he thought. _That’s the only explanation_. 

But if Cas was the cause, Emmanuel couldn’t be the cure.

Or could he? 

“I am,” Dean said. 

Cas--Emmanuel--gestured towards the sofa. “Come, friend. Sit.” 

Friend. That damn word felt like a knife in his gut. _What is my problem?_ But he listened and sat, slowly and carefully.

“What ails you, Dean?” Emmanuel asked him. 

He’d said his name. Cas--Emmanuel--had said his name in that low, gravelly voice. God, Dean had _missed_ that sound. He swallowed. “I, uh, broke my leg a while ago. Had to take the cast off early. Don’t think it healed right.”

Some small, quiet part of Dean remembered everything else that Emmanuel would probably consider wrong with him. But he couldn’t know. It would be too much. And Dean wasn’t ready to let all of it go.

Emmanuel smiled sympathetically. “ May I?” He held his hand over Dean’s leg, waiting for permission. 

Pushing aside his fear of this new version of Cas somehow reading too much, learning too much--learning things even Dean didn’t understand--Dean nodded. He trained his eyes on his leg, on Cas’ familiar hand hovering over it. 

Emmanuel gave him a small, cordial, warm smile before resting his hand on Dean’s leg. The pain faded instantly. Dean heard the familiar soft chime that always accompanied an angel’s healing, but there was something new. Emmanuel’s hand glowed--which was also normal--but the glow was spreading across Dean’s leg and Emmanuel’s arm.

“Emmanuel?” his wife asked in a slightly worried voice. 

The hand on Dean’s leg pulled back. The glow faded. Dean couldn’t take his eyes off of the fallen angel. _Please, please look up. Cas, look at me._

As if he could hear him, Emmanuel’s head snapped up, blue eyes meeting green. And something clicked.

Cas’ eyes were wild, searching Dean’s face. His jaw had dropped a little. Shock was written all over his face. The angel stood, chest rising and falling a little more quickly than usual. Dean knew that, somehow. Normally, he would hate that he knew. But here, now, his breath just caught. 

“Cas?” Sam asked quietly. 

The blue eyes finally settled. “Hello, Sam.” He looked back at the older Winchester, still sitting on the couch, crippled by his own fear and nerves. “Hello, Dean.”

“Cas,” Sam said, smiling and taking one long stride to hug him. Dean was frozen in place. What the hell just happened?? Cas had healed Dean and, somehow, doing that brought his memory back? How? Why? 

Dean knew, logically, that his leg was healed. The lingering pain was gone. But the rest of him was a _mess_. He was confused and exhausted and _so_ sick and tired of _feelings_. He wanted whiskey. 

“Emmanuel?” the wife asked. “Why are these men calling you Cas?” 

Cas pulled away from Sam and looked at Dean. “Would you give me a moment with Charity?” he asked. “I...need to explain what I can.” 

Dean nodded, still in a daze. “Yeah, man. Sure.” He stood and clapped a heavy hand on Cas’ shoulder, mirroring where Cas’ handprint had been burned into his skin for months. Cas looked at the hand and then up at the man attached to it. “Good to have you back, Cas,” Dean said. There were so many other things that needed to be said, but that was enough for now.

Cas just stared at him with his usual quiet intensity. He nodded. “See you soon, Dean. You can wait outside.” 

An inexplicable thrill went through Dean. _Cas is coming with us_. He and Sam left a very, very confused Charity with Cas and walked back to the car. 

Sam lounged against it. “So. Cas’ memory is back.”

Dean nodded. “Looks like it.” 

“Just to be clear--Cas’ memory came back when he healed you. Because he healed you. By fixing you, he fixed himself.” 

Dean scratched his head. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Sam looked like he was holding back a smile and a wiseass remark. 

“Spit it out, Sammy.”

“Nothing.”

Dean frowned and opened his mouth to fight back, but before he could say anything, Sam nodded towards the house. Dean spun around and saw the angel—his angel. “Cas?” he asked. God, he hated how hesitant his voice was, but he couldn’t help it. A tiny part of him wondered if this was real. 

Cas nodded, a hint of a smile at the corners of his beautiful blue eyes. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean wanted to close the distance between them, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Feelings were still swirling in him like a storm, and he had no clue how to handle them. There was an unusually bright and happy one surfacing. What was it?

Cas walked towards him, leaving barely a step between them. His eyes were downcast. “I...I’m so sorry, Dean. I don’t expect you to forgive me. What I did was unforgivable, and—“

Dean grabbed Cas’ shoulder and hugged him, clinging to him as if the angel was a lifeline. _Elation_. That was the feeling. “Shut up,” he said gruffly. 

Cas looked up at Sam, who was beaming, before wrapping his arms around Dean, hesitantly at first. But when Dean didn’t pull away or let go, the angel held him more tightly. And Dean felt, for the first time since he’d thought Cas had died, the broken pieces inside of him slowly come back together. 

Cas pulled away just enough to look into Dean’s beautiful green eyes. “I...I thought you’d be mad at me.” 

“I am,” Dean said, letting Cas go. The angel’s face fell, and Dean’s heart ached. “But we can talk about that later.” His joy--his mind-blowing, earth-shattering joy that Cas was back was taking over. Refusing to let it show, he switched tracks. “What the hell happened to you, man? How are you alive?” 

Cas shook his head, sighing. “I don’t know. I remember going into the reservoir, then waking up by a river.” 

“Bobby’s gonna want to hear this,” Sam said. He clapped a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” 

Dean got into the driver’s seat. Maybe driving would clear his head--or at least make his emotions chill out for a bit. 

“I could fly us there,” Cas offered. “It would be faster.” 

“Unless you can fly this car, too, then no,” Dean said. “Bobby will want her back.” 

Can’s eyebrows scrunched together as his head tilted to the side. Goddammit, Dean had forgotten how adorable that was. 

Adorable? Had he actually just thought something _Cas_ did was _adorable_? He shook his head to clear it as they all piled into the car and drove back towards the cabin.

“Dean?” 

Dean blinked a few times. “Yeah?” 

“What happened to the Impala?” Cas asked. “Why aren’t you driving her?” His tone made it clear that he’d already asked Dean that question. So did Sam’s raised eyebrows. 

Intentionally ignoring his brother, Dean asked Cas, “Have you kept up with the news lately?” 

Cas’ frown lingered. “Yes.” Recognition sparked in those brilliant blue eyes, and his frown disappeared. “You went on a killing spree. But they weren’t you. Were they?” 

“Of course not,” Sam said. “The Leviathans can apparently copy someone if they have your DNA. They got it from a motel shower drain.”

“The Leviathans…” Cas’ voice trailed off. “This is all my fault.” 

Sam looked at Dean, who didn’t respond. He couldn’t quite find the words. 

“I’m so sorry,” Cas said. His blue eyes peered straight into the rearview mirror. “I didn’t know this would happen--”

“You knew it was a mistake, though,” Dean said in a tight voice. Anger was rising to the top of the swirling storm inside of him. “I told you it was a mistake. We told you it was a mistake. And you went and busted open the damn door to purgatory anyway.” 

“ _I’m sorry_ , Dean,” Cas said. “I was trying to save you.” 

Dean couldn’t meet those eyes, couldn’t look at Cas’ puppy dog expression, couldn’t react to the pain in the angel’s voice. He wasn’t ready to forgive Cas, but he sure as hell wasn’t ready to let him go, either. He noticed, for the first time, how grounding it was to have Cas around. Yeah, he was pissed at the guy. But he’d left a hole, a sense of unease in Dean’s chest. Having him back felt good. 

“We know, Cas,” Sam said in a softer voice. “And someone got them, somehow.” He let out a short laugh. “Whoever they are, we owe them a fruit basket or something.” 

Dean’s lips curled up at the corners in just a hint of a smile. Sam always knew how to make him laugh, even--hell, maybe especially--when he didn’t want to.

“That sounds like something Charlie would say,” Cas said. “How is she? How’s Bobby?” 

The mood in the car dropped instantly. Sam shot a worried look at Dean, who couldn’t take his eyes off of the road. Anger flared again, and he had to clench his jaw to keep more vitriolic words from spilling out. 

“She’s dead, Cas,” Sam said flatly. 

Cas was quiet. “How?” he asked after a few seconds, his tone unusually soft. 

“Leviathans,” Dean said. “She was hacking into their database when they caught her. We saw her ghost--or some form of her that looked a hell of a lot like a ghost--yesterday, which doesn’t make any damn sense. We gave her a hunter’s funeral.” 

Cas was lost in thought, his blue eyes hazy. “This is all my fault,” he said quietly. 

“Cas--” Sam started.

Dean cranked up the radio. He saw Sam’s clenched jaw from the corner of his eye and Cas’ devastated expression from the rearview mirror. But he couldn’t handle this conversation anymore. He couldn’t drive _and_ talk about all of this. No way. Absolutely no fucking way. He needed a break. 

“Any luck?” called Bobby when they pulled into the driveway. 

One, two, three men came out of the car. Dean watched Bobby look Cas up and down, evaluating him. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. 

“Bobby, I’m so sorry,” Cas told him. 

Bobby waved it away. “Save it. I know you are.” 

Dean looked at Sam, who looked just as surprised as he was. They both turned to Bobby. 

“What?” the older hunter asked. “Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other guy to die.” 

Dean frowned. “Huh. Makes sense. Doesn’t sound like you.” 

“Heard it from somebody smart today,” Bobby grumbled. “Come on in. We’ve got beer and food.” 

“We?” Sam asked. A sly grin was growing on his face. “Bobby, do you have company?” 

“Hey there, boys,” said a familiar female voice. Jody walked out and smiled at them, giving Sam and then Dean a hug. “Who’d you pick up?” 

“Cas, this is Jody,” Dean said. He crossed his arms. “Jody, this is Cas.” 

“Cas the angel?” Jody asked, glancing up at Dean for confirmation. He nodded. “Huh,” she said. She smiled at Cas, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’ve put these boys through hell and back.” 

“Technically, I pulled both of them out of hell,” Cas said. 

“Getting Sam’s meat suit but missing his soul doesn’t count, Cas,” Dean grumbled. 

Cas shot him the most pitiful puppy dog face he’d ever seen--and that included when toddler Sam had begged for mac & cheese with marshmallows for the third night in a row. “I’m sorry, Dean.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time,” Dean said, still grumbling. His arms seemed to be stuck in their crossed, defensive position. 

“Let’s have some food, huh?” Jody asked, clapping Cas on the shoulder. “I made chili.” 

“I don’t eat,” Cas said. “I can taste every molecule. It’s not necessarily pleasant.”

Dean smiled, fighting the urge to laugh. Cas was just as deadpan as ever. 

“Uh…” Jody said, clearly at a loss for words. 

“I’m starving,” Sam said. They went inside. 

“So,” Bobby said, opening beers and passing them around. Jody handed out bowls of steaming hot chili, and they crowded around the small table. “Best start from the beginning, I guess.” 

Cas nodded. “After, well, it must have been after I exploded and died--”

Dean had to exhale to fight the sudden rush of pain at that reminder.

“--I woke up by a river. No clothes, no memory. Charity found me.” 

“Charity?” Bobby asked.

“Died?” Jody asked. 

“My wife,” Cas explained. Dean felt a sharp stab of...something. Jealousy? No. Jealousy would be ridiculous. “At least, that’s what we told people. It was all for show, of course. A falsehood.” He turned to Jody. “I don’t know how I came back or who brought me back.”

“Is this normal?” Jody asked Bobby. “Angels dying and coming back to life?” 

“Well, this is at least the third time Cas has done it. I’ve lost track of how many times it happened to these two,” Bobby said, waving at Sam and Dean. 

“Black Rock shouldn’t count,” Dean said.

Sam shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

One of Jody’s eyebrows went up, but she didn’t press it. “So, fake marriage.” 

Cas nodded. “Right. She found me, got me clothes, told her church about me when we realized I could heal people.” 

“Which is how Missouri heard about you,” Bobby added, “and how we heard about you.” 

Cas’ eyes went distant, and a small smile crossed his face. “I remember her.” He tilted his head, focusing back on Bobby. “How do you know her?” 

“Old friends,” Bobby explained. “She helped me and John a couple of times.” 

Cas nodded, glancing at Sam and Dean. 

“Your dad?” Jody asked, waving at them. 

Sam and Dean looked at each other in surprise. “Uh, yeah. How’d you guess?” 

She smirked at them, a half-smile making her eyes sparkle. “I’m good at reading people.” 

Wondering what else she could read--but not at all willing to ask--Dean said, “Cas healed my leg.” 

“I thought your leg was fine,” Bobby said. 

“Well, fine, yeah. But not a hundred percent,” Dean said. “Figured it’d be better to give Cas a practice run than send him right into the big leagues.” 

Cas directed that fucking adorable head tilt at Dean. “Practice run? Big leagues?” 

Sam tapped his head. “A broken leg is a lot easier to patch up than a wall put up by Death.” 

Cas’ blue eyes went wide. “The wall. Sam, I’m so sorry--”

“I know, Cas, I know,” Sam said, waving the apology away. “And I get it. You were trying to save us, right? From Apocalypse: Take Two?” 

Shock crossed over Cas’ face, but he nodded. “Exactly. Raphael would have undone all of the work you did--we did--to prevent the apocalypse from happening.” His imploring eyes met Dean’s. “I just wanted to save you.” 

“Yeah, well, you did a piss-poor job of it,” Dean grumbled. 

Cas opened his mouth to speak, but Sam spoke first. “Dean, it worked. It might’ve made a bigger mess than we had before, but _it fucking worked_. Lucifer and Michael are in the cage. We’re not dealing with the apocalypse.” 

“You don’t think the Leviathans count as a friggin’ apocalypse?” Dean asked, somewhere between his normal gruff tone and a yell. 

“The wall,” Cas said, worry written all over his face. “Sam. I’m so sorry.” 

“I know, Cas--” “How’s your head?” 

Sam shrugged and stirred his chili. “Fine.” 

Dean snorted. “If having visions of friggin’ Satan telling you your entire reality is an elaborate form of torture counts as fine, then, yeah. Sammy’s just _fine_.” His voice was dripping with venom by the “fine,” and a small part of him wanted to take it back. Cas didn’t need this, but Dean was beyond overwhelmed. 

“I’ve missed a lot, huh?” Jody asked. 

“I’ll catch you up,” Bobby told her. They stood, and Bobby gave Dean a warning look. Dean threw up his hands in surrender. What did Bobby want? For Dean to not be pissed the hell off at the guy who broke his brother? Who was the reason behind the mess of a world they were dealing with? “Play nice,” Bobby said. 

Dean and Sam rolled their eyes in unison. “I mean it,” Bobby said. He and Jody left. And then the Winchesters and their fallen angel were alone. 


	6. Chapter 6

“Can you fix it?” Dean asked. 

A small crease appeared between Cas’ eyebrows. 

“The wall in Sam’s head. Can you fix it?

“I should be able to.” Cas’ eyes dropped, breaking contact with Dean’s. “But we should wait until tomorrow.” 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Why? You don’t think Sam’s been through enough already?” 

“Dean--” Sam tried to interject.

“I have done nothing but heal people today, Dean,” Cas said, his eyes snapping back up to Dean’s. “I need to rest. I could try to heal Sam now, but it might not work. It would be safer to wait.” Cas looked at Sam, who had the same expression of a kid listening to his parents fight. “Sam, can you wait until tomorrow?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I can wait. Tomorrow’s fine.” He picked up his chili and grabbed Charlie’s laptop. “I’m gonna see what else I can find on here.” 

“Sam--” Dean started. _Do not leave me alone with him_. 

“It’s good to have you back, Cas.” Sam gave Dean a very pointed look before leaving. _Talk._

Dean stared sullenly into his chili. 

Cas sighed heavily. “Dean, I know you’re angry with me--”

“You think?” Dean asked. He met Cas’ gaze with a fierce glare. “Do you have _any_ idea what you’ve done? The mess you’ve made that we’ve been cleaning up?” 

Anger flared in Cas’ eyes. “I’m here now, Dean. I’ve apologized. I want to help. And in case you forgot, I’ve been helping you clean up your messes for years.”

“Oh, you mean saving the world? That’s cleaning up a mess?” 

“I mean turning my back on my family. On the script that God handed the angels.”

“You just wanted freedom,” Dean grumbled. 

Cas stared into his eyes, and--not for the first time--Dean felt like the angel was looking into his soul. “No. I didn’t just want freedom. But I think you know that.” 

Dean clenched his jaw but couldn’t look away. The anger in his chest started to fade, revealing something just as sharp but bittersweet, too. He’d _missed_ Cas. He’d never let himself feel just how badly he’d missed him. But with the angel sitting in front of him, it came into sharp relief. 

Something shifted in Cas’ face. “I need to rest if I want to successfully heal Sam tomorrow.” He stood. “Good night, Dean.” 

“Wait,” Dean said, standing. Cas paused, turned towards him. That familiar tension, that _pull_ he always felt around Cas, was back. Dean, as always, ignored it. “Where are you going?” 

“Not far.” The tight set of Cas’ shoulders relaxed. “If you need me, just call.” And just like that, he was gone. 

Dean sighed in a rush of air as he sat. He shook his head before going back to his beer. “Friggin’ angels,” he muttered. 

Dean had a hard time falling asleep that night. Cas was back. He should be happy about that, right? Or should he be mad? Cas had royally fucked up. 

_But he apologized,_ said that Charlie-like voice in his head. 

_Shut up,_ he told it. He turned onto his side. 

Charlie was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. “No, not gonna shut up.” 

Dean scrambled back on the bed. “What the--how--” 

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to surprise you. Been trying to materialize all day. Guess something didn’t work quite right.” She directed her last sentence to the ceiling. 

Dean ran his hand over his hair, then down his face. “I’m dreaming. I’ve gotta be dreaming.” 

“Nope.” 

“I’m crazy, then.” 

“Not crazy, either.” Charlie pursed her lips, an impish smile sparkling in her eyes. “I mean, no crazier than usual.” 

Dean got out of bed and slowly, carefully, walked towards her. “We gave you a hunter’s funeral.” 

“I’m not a ghost,” she said.

Dean’s eyebrows went up. His brain felt like it was short circuiting. _This made no sense_.

“I’m real, kid,” she told him gently. Her eyes were apologetic. “I died and everything, but I’m real now. See?” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Not a ghost. Really here.” 

Dean pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in a vice grip. Charlie was _back_. Alive. “It’s damn good to see you,” he eventually managed to choke out when he remembered how to speak.

He felt some muffled vibrations against his chest but couldn’t decipher them. Reluctantly, he let her go. 

Charlie took a deep, dramatic breath. “Much better.” She grinned. “And it’s damn good to see you, too.” 

“So, are you back? Alive again?” Dean sat on the bed and patted the space next to him.

She scrunched her nose as she sat. “Not exactly.” 

Dean put his head in his hands. “I need a fucking drink.” 

“ _No_ ,” Charlie said. Dean’s head jerked back up. He’d never heard her voice get that hard. “ _No_. You need to actually deal with your fucking feelings and stop trying to bury them. _It could kill you_.” 

Dean just looked at her, letting the one word in his head show through his expression: _So?_

“No, Dean. Too many good people have died already.” Her voice softened. “Please. Please don’t do that to me.” 

Dean sighed heavily. He nodded. “Could never say no to you, anyway,” he said, nudging her arm with his elbow. 

She beamed. “I know.” 

He shook his head. “How the hell are you here, anyway? Thought you were a ghost yesterday.” 

“I was! But I’m not anymore.”

Dean waved his hand in a circle, gesturing for her to continue. 

She sat up tall. “I’m a Cupid in training.” 

Dean snorted. “You’re a what? Thought those were only naked dudes.” He frowned. “And how the hell can a human become an angel, anyway?” 

“I talked Gabriel into it. Made it clear that nudity was not part of the deal--and neither was a gender swap.” 

Dean frowned again. “Gabriel? I thought he died.” 

Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Oops. Nope. He’s doing just fine. Kinda mad at me. I hacked angel radio and played ‘Baby Shark’ on repeat until he showed up in my heaven. Threatened to keep doing it until he let me go back to earth somehow.” 

Dean laughed--his first real laugh in...god, he didn’t even know how long. It felt good. “That’s my girl.” 

“You know it. And a witch helped us figure out how to make me a Cupid.” 

“A witch? Helping angels?” 

Charlie shrugged. “There are a few good ones. Just gotta find ‘em.” 

Dean nodded, trying to let all of that sink in. “Hang on. That stupid little voice in my head that’s sounded like you all day. Was that _actually_ you?” 

She smiled and nodded. “Yep. Took a while to figure out how to do _this_.” She gestured to her body. 

Dean nodded. “And you’re a Cupid in training?” 

She grinned. “Uh huh. Keep going.”

Nerves tightened in Dean’s stomach. “Any chance you’re bugging me just to say hi? Tell me you’re okay?” 

“Well, I did want to say hi and tell you I’m okay. But that’s not the only reason why I’m here.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

Dean groaned. “No. I’ve maxed out my feelings quota for the _month_ , kid. No.” 

“Just hear me out,” Charlie said, standing and holding her hands out defensively. Her eyes sparkled. “Cas.” 

Dean glared at her. “No.”

She ignored him. “You’re pissed at him. I mean, really, really pissed at him. More than that one time I stole Baby.” 

Dean’s glower stayed. 

“You’ve only ever been this mad at Sam and your dad, right?” 

Dean squinted. “You reading my mind, kid?” 

She shrugged. “Perks of the gig. I can read feelings pretty easily.” Her eyes grew just slightly more serious. “And I know you.” 

Dean sighed. “Fine. You gonna keep going, or do you need me to jump in?” 

Her eyes grew warm. “I got it. This time.” 

Dean rolled his eyes as Charlie started to pace, growing more and more animated. He’d never admit it, but he loved seeing her this excited. “You’ve only ever been this mad at family. At people you love.” She raised her eyebrows in a silent question, and Dean reluctantly nodded. 

“Cas is family.”

“He’s a dumb son of a bitch sometimes,” Dean grumbled. 

“He’s in good company then.” 

Dean shook his head at her, but he smiled, too. Charlie was the only person who could ever get away with saying shit like that. Mostly because there was no heat behind it, but also because she was right. 

“And Cas has been different. You’ve noticed, right?” 

“Charles, we’ve barely been around each other while he’s actually known who the hell he is.” 

“But…?” 

Dean ran a hand down his face. “Yeah. I’ve noticed.” Cas had been different, more expressive. Genuinely apologetic. He’d always suspected the guy had more feelings than most angels, but now he could see it. 

Charlie glanced up at the ceiling. “Gabe’s calling. Gotta go.” She winked at him. “Think you have enough to stew over for now.” 

“Will you come back?” Dean asked, not even bothering to hide the pleading tone in his voice. “Can Sammy see you? Bobby?” 

Her eyes darkened with sadness. “I’ll come back, but I don’t know about Sammy or Bobby. Probably not yet.” She kissed his forehead. “Don’t panic. Love you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean mumbled. And with a whoosh of wings, she was gone. 

He fell back onto the bed. “Love you too,” he said to the empty room, testing out and tasting the words. They were true, but they still felt weird. 

_But people do that_ , he told himself. _People say “I love you” to people they love_. He’d just never had much practice saying it. Or hearing it, for that matter. Dean was better with actions, with showing how he felt. Saving people. Patching up Sam’s hand. Keeping Cas’ trenchcoat in Baby’s trunk. 

Shit. He had to get that back to Cas. 

_Tomorrow_ , he reminded himself. _I can give it back to Cas tomorrow_.

Dean woke up to the smell of coffee. It drew him out of bed and down the stairs like a magnet, but he was surprised by the person standing by the pot. 

“Cas?” His voice was thick with sleep. 

Cas turned around, a worry line clear between his eyebrows. “I hope I made it correctly. I think I did.” 

“You hope?” Dean asked. He ran one hand down his face. His heart swelled. Cas made him coffee. 

Cas did that fucking adorable head tilt. “Yes.” 

“Didn’t know angels could hope for shit,” Dean mumbled. He half-sat, half-collapsed into a chair. 

Cas just studied him. “I can. I hope you can forgive me, someday.” 

The happy feeling in Dean’s chest faded as he remembered how damn angry he was. “Cas--” Dean said in a warning tone. 

“I’ll fix Sam as soon as he’s awake,” Cas said. “And that’s all I’ll say for now.” 

Dean nodded. Cas knew he didn’t like to talk before having coffee. 

Bobby came down the stairs next. “When did you learn how to make coffee?”

“I looked it up,” Cas said. “There are several different methods, but I found the instructions for this one. The beans might not be ground correctly.” 

Bobby snorted. “I ain’t picky, Cas.” He grabbed a mug. “Thanks.” 

Cas nodded. “I want to make amends.” 

“We know you do, kid,” Bobby said. 

“I’m not a kid. I’m hundreds of years older than you.” 

“Term of endearment, Cas.” Bobby clapped a hand on his shoulder before filling up his mug. “Get used to it.”

Cas glanced at Dean, and Dean saw something new in Cas’ eyes. Fear. Just a little flicker of fear. Cas was afraid of this--of closeness, of family, of love. Dean knew that reaction as well as he knew his own damn reflection. And just like that, his heart broke for Cas. The urge to somehow comfort the angel was almost overwhelming. But what was he gonna do? Hug him? He hadn’t had nearly enough coffee yet for this. 

But the words were out of his mouth before he could even think about them. “Your trench coat is in Baby’s trunk, Cas. Whenever you’re ready for it.” 

Cas’ whole damn expression lifted. It was subtle changes--his shoulders dropping, the creases in his forehead disappearing, a light sparking in those stupidly blue eyes. Cas looked lighter. Hopeful, even. He nodded. “Thank you, Dean.” 

By the time Sam came downstairs, Dean and Bobby were tag teaming a breakfast of eggs and bacon. “What happened to Jody?” Dean asked. 

“She went to her sister’s,” Bobby told him. “She lives close by.” 

“So not an overnight guest?” Dean asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Shut up, idjit,” Bobby grumbled. 

“What’d Dean do this time?” Sam asked in an extremely sleepy voice. 

“Ask if the sheriff stayed the night,” Bobby told him. 

Sam’s eyebrows scrunched together in a frown. The sleep stayed in his eyes. “Did she?” 

“No. And it ain’t your business, anyway,” Bobby said, waving the spatula at Dean and Sam. Dean threw up his hands and plastered a shit-eating grin on his face. Sam shook his head and poured himself a cup of coffee. “What’ve we got?” 

“Figured fixing your head would be the first order of business,” Bobby said. He looked at Cas. “If you’re all rested up?” 

Cas nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, Sam.” 

Sam pointed to his coffee. “Let me finish this first. I’ve got a feeling the pounding headache is mostly just needing coffee.” 

“Pounding headache?” Dean asked. “Is that new?” 

Sam nodded. “It’ll be fine.” 

“Cas?” Dean asked. 

“He’ll be fine,” the angel told him. A sinking sensation came over Dean. He knew it well--the drop in his stomach from missing a step on the stairs, or something on a hunt going sideways. 

_This isn’t going to end well._

“Ready, Sam?” Cas asked. 

Sam looked nervous but nodded. The coffee mugs were empty, the breakfast dishes done. Cas gently put his hands on Sam’s head. Dean heard the soft, familiar chime and watched Cas’ hands start to glow. 

A terrible, heavy weight started to lift in his chest. This was going to work. Sam was going to be--

Cas’ hands dropped. Sam blinked a few times before looking up at Cas. “Well?” Dean asked. 

Cas’ face was unreadable. “The wall is...beyond repair.” 

The heavy weight in Dean’s chest came crashing back down. 

“I can’t completely eliminate what Sam is suffering from,” Cas continued. “But I might be able to transfer it.” He met Dean’s eyes, and Dean felt a chill crawl down his spine. Cas looked like a soldier going into battle. “I’m sorry. For everything. I hope you can forgive me one day.” He looked at Bobby, then Sam, and finally Dean. There was something in those blue eyes--something important, something behind the resignation and determination. Suddenly the storm of feelings that had been swirling inside of Dean got stuck in his throat. He needed to say something. He needed to tell Cas--

Cas’ hands went back to Sam’s head, and Sam flinched. Dean watched in horror as red electricity appeared on Sam’s eyes and moved--moved from Sam’s eyes to his temples, to Cas’ hands, up Cas’ arms, and into the angel’s eyes. He released Sam and backed away. 

“Sammy?” Dean asked. The younger Winchester was breathing hard. 

“I’m okay, Dean,” Sam said. He took a deep breath in and out. “I’m okay. It worked.” 

Relief rushed through Dean, but a horrible chill came with it. Sam was okay. His baby brother was okay. But Cas? 

He cautiously walked towards the angel, who was standing still and staring into space. “Cas?” 

A soft smile grew on Cas’ face. “Cas. You gave me that nickname.” 

Something in Dean twisted. That soft smile was easily one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, but it wasn’t Cas. This was _wrong_. “Yeah, buddy. I did.” 

“Is Castiel that difficult to say?” Cas asked. 

“Uh, well, no, but--”

“Nicknames are so odd,” Cas continued. The soft smile faded, and a dreamy expression took its place. No, not dreamy. Lost. 

_Shit._

“Sometimes a nickname is longer than the person’s actual name. Like, Sammy.” Cas waved at Sam. “Samuel is, of course, your full name. So Sam is short for Samuel. But Sammy is longer than Sam.” 

“Cas, are you okay?” Sam asked carefully. 

Dean shook his head. Grief was rising like a tide in his chest. Cas was gone. “No, Sam. He’s not.” 

“Did you know that cats’ penises are barbed?” Cas looked at each hunter, polite curiosity written on his face. “I personally know that the females were not consulted on this matter.” 

Sam choked on his coffee. Dean was speechless. He knew his mouth was open, jaw hanging there uselessly, but he didn’t care. 

“No, Cas, we didn’t,” Bobby said. Dean knew that tone. Bobby had used it on him when he’d woken up from a nightmare--placating, grounding. 

“I’m going to study the bees.” 

“What?” Sam asked, completely bewildered. 

“They’re vital to so many ecosystems. So I’m going to study them.” Cas turned to Dean. “Of course, you can still call if you need me.” He smiled, waved, and disappeared. 

“What the fuck?” Dean said softly. No response. “What the fuck?” he asked in a louder, much more intense voice. 

“Dean, take a breath,” Bobby told him. 

“No,” Dean said, backing away from where Cas had disappeared. “No. Nuh uh. This…” He shook his head and stormed outside. 

**Sam**

“Should we go after him?” Sam asked. 

Bobby sighed. “No. Give him a minute. I mean, if we hear the car running--”

An engine kicked into gear. Sam ran for the door, but by the time he reached it, Dean was already tearing out of the driveway. 

“Sure your head is okay?” Bobby asked. 

Sam chuckled humorlessly. “I’m not seeing Lucifer anymore, if that’s what you mean. Or hell.” 

“So Cas took the crazy?” 

“And now he’s crazy,” Sam finished. He sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Bobby, how are we gonna do this? How can we go back to hunting Leviathans like everything’s fine? Dean’s probably past his breaking point, and--”

“We’ll get ‘em,” Bobby told Sam, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll buy all the damn Borax in the state if we have to.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I, uh, asked Jody to dig up some records. She should be stopping by later today.” 

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Jody? Really?” 

“Shut up,” Bobby griped as a light blush warmed his cheeks. “Land deeds, records of any Leviathans that might be helpful. I want to know what connections they have.” 

“I think we know their endgame already,” Sam said. When Bobby frowned at him, he said, “World domination. Somehow keeping us docile enough to be easy prey.” 

“These sons of bitches are smart,” Bobby admitted. “We’ve gotta be careful.” 

“Define careful,” Sam said. 

Bobby chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah. Forgot who I was talking to.” He and Sam exchanged small, knowing smiles--the kind of easy ones that go between family. 

“D’you think it’s worth hunting Dean down?” Sam asked. 

Bobby shook his head. “Nah. He’ll come back when he’s ready. Best to let him cool off first.” His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped. “The kid’s had a rough couple of days.” 

“We all have, Bobby,” Sam said gently. 

“Yeah, but we’re not all in love with that friggin’ angel,” Bobby said. 

Sam laughed lightly. “You’ve seen it too, then?” 

Bobby snorted. “Clear as day.”

Sam laughed--really laughed, then. “Damn. Is Dean the only one who doesn’t get it?” 

“Probably,” Bobby said. “He’ll wake up one day.” He poured Sam another cup of coffee. “C’mon. Let’s see what else Charlie found for us.” 

**Dean**

Dean was almost feeling better. He’d forced himself to drive far enough away that Sam and Bobby couldn’t yell at him--or, if they did, he couldn’t hear them. Drive away from his healed brother and adoptive father. Drive away from the friggin’ Leviathans and the angel with the stupidly blue eyes. Drive far enough that the roaring scream building in his chest would fade away. 

“I’m a fucking coward,” he muttered. 

“No, you’re overwhelmed, and you’re running away to cope,” Charlie said. “There’s a difference.” 

Dean jumped. “Jesus Christ, Charlie, d’you think you could warn me next time?” 

She arched an eyebrow. “And how exactly could I warn you? Earth to Dean, Charlie incoming? Angel alert?” 

Dean glowered. Charlie sighed. “Spit it out.” 

“Spit what out?” 

She gave him a flat look. “I know you. I know you need to vent.” 

“If I’m gonna talk, I’m gonna yell,” Dean admitted. “And if you don’t want me to yell, I’ll need whiskey.” 

Charlie beamed. “I have an alternative.” 

Dean groaned. “What?” 

“There’s an axe-throwing range not too far from here. We can go there and talk.” 

Dean frowned. “Will other people be able to see you? Are you, you know...?” 

“Real to everyone and not just you?” Charlie nodded. “I’m getting stronger, not weaker. We should be good. I don’t know what the witch cooked up, but it worked.” 

“A witch had the power to make an angel?” Dean shook his head. “I don’t like that.” 

“She’s a good one. And technically, I’m not even sure how much of her power she used.” Charlie waved the thought away. “Doesn’t matter. More importantly: axe-throwing range. Life chat. Yes or no?” 

Dean didn’t say anything. 

“You can keep that surly expression, but I’m not going anywhere until we talk.” 

Dean groaned and rolled his head back. “Fine. Where is it?” 

Twenty minutes later, they were pulling up to the range. “I’m gonna text Sam,” Dean said. “He’s probably wondering where I went.” 

“He’s probably assuming you went to a bar,” Charlie said. 

“It’s not out of the question,” Dean told her. “I’ve earned a drink.” 

“It’s 10 a.m., Dean.” 

“It’s 5 o’clock somewhere.” He reached for his flask. Charlie instantly took it out of his hand and threw it in the car. “Hey!” 

“I am not watching you die because of your own damn self-destructive habits,” Charlie said flatly. _She’s serious_ , Dean realized. Charlie usually had some form of sparkle in her eye, some sign of laughter or mischief in her voice. Not this time. “Your life is dangerous enough without you killing yourself.” 

“Is this part of your homework as a Cupid?” Dean asked, walking towards the entrance of the range. “Trying to get me to break my bad habits?” 

“Not exactly,” Charlie said. “It’s to help you get together with someone. But your bad habits are going to get in the way.” She smiled lightly and tilted her head to the side. “And I love you, you dork. Your life is hard enough as it is. Don’t make it harder by self-destructing. Axe-throwing and talking instead of drinking. Deal?”

Dean stared at her. She held out her hand for him to shake. He ran a hand down his face before nodding and shaking her hand. “Fine. I’ll try it.” 

She beamed. “Close enough. Let’s go.” 

“Your hands are friggin’ ice cubes, kid.” 

“Shitty circulation.” She tilted her head. “Huh. Guess that’s one thing that didn’t change.”

Dean shook his head, smiling a little. They paid their entrance fee, took their axes, and found a target far away from the others. “In case you end up yelling,” Charlie said. 

“I’m not gonna yell,” Dean said. 

“Uh huh,” Charlie said flatly. She spun her axe. “You first. Talk to me.” 

Dean glowered at her. “This was the deal, man,” she said. “We throw things, you talk.” 

“The deal _you_ made,” Dean grumbled. He threw the axe. It hit the edge of the target with a satisfying _thud_. Dean pursed his lips before nodding approvingly. It felt good to throw something, to hit something that wasn’t going to fight him back. “Cas healed Sam.” 

“Uh huh.” Charlie squinted at the target, holding out her axe. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing, kid?” Dean asked. 

“I’ve got angel mojo,” Charlie said. She waved at him to continue. “Keep talking.”

Dean paused, thinking. “Sam’s okay. No more crazy.” 

“And that’s...good?” Charlie asked. She threw the axe and missed the target. Dean bit back a laugh. She winked at him. 

Dean let himself laugh a little. It felt good--weird, but good. “Yeah. I’m glad Sammy’s okay.” 

“What happened to Cas?” 

Dean squinted at her before grabbing his next axe. “You already know, don’t you?” 

“I don’t think you would’ve driven away and almost yelled into the void if everything was fine,” Charlie said. 

“Okay, then,” Dean said. He took a deep breath in. “Cas couldn’t fix the wall. He couldn’t get rid of the crazy. So he took it instead.” He used the rush of turbulent emotions that came up to throw the axe. It hit the target left of center, but the tightness in his chest let up, just a little bit. “Damn,” he said.

Charlie grinned. “It helps, right?” Her grin faded. “Cas took the crazy?” She picked up an axe. 

“Yeah.” Dean shook his head. “Dumb son of a bitch. Didn’t even take his stupid trench coat. Started rambling about cats’ dicks and bees.” 

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “Cats’ dicks and bees?”

“Yeah. Said he had to go watch the bees and fucking disappeared.” 

Charlie snorted. “Not what I’d expect from Cas.” 

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, me neither. Guess that’s what happens when friggin’ Lucifer crashes your head--at least, for Cas.” 

“Huh.” Charlie threw the axe. “Think Sam was faking it?” 

“Faking what?” Dean asked. 

“Being okay.” Her eyes were unusually somber. “I mean, if that was Cas’ almost instant reaction…” 

Dean sighed heavily. “Yeah, Sammy was probably faking.” He shook his head. “Seems like something the stubborn son of a bitch would do.” 

“Yeah.” Charlie handed him an axe. “Back to Cas. Did you tell him you forgive him?” 

A sharp, stabbing pain made itself known in Dean’s chest. He shook his head. “No.” 

Charlie studied him carefully. “And how does that make you feel?” 

Dean threw the axe with all of his strength. It, like the others, was still left of center. “Dammit!” He stormed off to get the axes, Charlie almost running to keep up. 

“I’m gonna go with pissed,” Charlie said. 

“I _am_ pissed,” Dean said. “He broke Sam.” 

“He also fixed Sam.” 

“He created the fucking Leviathan problem.” 

“To save you from another apocalypse.” 

“We’ve been over this, Charles,” Dean said in a warning tone. 

“I know.” She crossed her arms. “So under that anger is...what? Because we both know there’s a whole mess of feelings under that anger.” 

Dean sighed heavily. He was quickly running out of patience for this conversation. 

“The only way out is through, Dean,” Charlie said quietly. “You’ve been through a special type of hell just in the past week. It’s been a hell of a lot really fucking fast.” She squeezed his arm and smiled up at him. The understanding in her eyes nearly broke his heart. “You’ve gotta get this out, Dean. If you want to keep helping people--if you want to fight the Leviathans--you’ve gotta get this out of your head.” She started pulling at the axes. “We’ll keep throwing and shooting the shit as long as you need to. The Leviathans are smart and ruthless and don’t feel the way people do.” 

“You trying to tell me feelings are a liability?” Dean said. “No shit.” 

“No, dingus. I’m trying to tell you the opposite.” She finally yanked an axe free. “You feel things super intensely. You can either let that hold you back or make you stronger.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “What do you choose?” 

Dean shrugged. “I’ll go with burying them. It’s worked just fine so far.” 

She glared at him. “Bull fucking shit. Take a minute. Take a breath. Think. Then try answering that again.” 

He glared back at her but knew there was no point blowing her off. Charlie was the only one he knew with a wider stubborn streak than his. So he listened. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes. He thought and turned his focus inward. For the first time, he lifted the lid on his internal Pandora’s box of emotions and glanced inside. And the contents _terrified_ him.

“It’s a lot, kid,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes screwed shut. 

“I know,” Charlie said gently. “But if you don’t deal with them in a safe and healthy way, some monster’s gonna figure out which buttons to press, and you’ll make a stupid mistake that’ll cost you big time.” She squeezed his arm reassuringly, and he opened his eyes. “Ready to talk?” 

Dean sighed. “Fine. But only if we can keep throwing these.” 

She grinned. “Abso-fucking-lutely. This is great.” 

Dean smiled, shaking his head at her. He loved Charlie. She could go from deadly serious and real to the impish troublemaker he’d known since high school. He needed this--needed her. 

“So, back to Cas. You’re pissed at him, but you also love him. Right?” Charlie asked. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Dean said, holding up his hands defensively. “Dude. Cas is just--”

“Family,” Charlie said. “Dude, I’m literally just telling you stuff you’ve already told me.” 

Dean sighed and picked up an axe. “Okay. Fine. Sure.” 

Charlie nodded. “Okay then. To recap the past week or so: you thought he was dead. But in the past 24 hours, you thought he was alive, but realized he’d forgotten you. Then he remembered you, asked you to forgive him, healed Sam, and lost his marbles.” She raised her eyebrows at Dean, her eyes going comically wide. “Holy shit.” 

Dean laughed--really, really laughed. “Pretty batshit, huh? 

“Extremely,” Charlie said. “How are you even standing?” 

Dean actually took a beat to feel his feet in his boots and his boots on the ground, the rough wood of the axe in his hands. He actually let himself feel what his body was screaming. “Jesus. I’m _tired_ , Charlie.” 

She nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”

“And Cas didn’t just break Sam,” Dean reminded her. He threw the axe. “He lied to us. For months.” The old anger flared again. 

“He apologized, Dean,” Charlie said gently. “Who are you actually helping by holding on to your anger?” 

He gave her a sad, sideways look. “Anger keeps me going. What’ll get me out of bed otherwise?” 

Charlie threw her axe with unusual force. It hit dead center. She and Dean nodded approvingly. “Nice shot,” Dean told her. 

“Thanks.” She pursed her lips. “You’re not gonna like my answer, but you need to hear it anyway. Deal?” When Dean nodded, she said, “Love.” 

Dean snorted. “What kind of Disney fairytale bullshit is that?” 

“The truth, idjit,” Charlie said. “You’re only this mad at Cas because of how much you love him and Sam. You’re only hurting this much about Cas because you love him. If you didn’t care, it wouldn’t hurt as much.” She put her hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently. “Don’t you get it? Love has been driving you this whole damn time. It’s just been showing up and coming out as anger.”

Dean tried to let that sink in. He’d never thought of it that way, but he heard the truth in it. Charlie squeezed his shoulders. “I think forgiving Cas would do you a _lot_ of good.”

“What he did wasn’t okay,” Dean reminded her. 

“I’m not saying it was,” Charlie said. There was just a hint of exasperation in her voice. “No one is saying it was. Forgiveness and saying something is okay are not the same thing.” 

“What the hell is forgiveness, then?” Dean asked.

“Letting go of the hurt,” she said. “Recognizing that someone fucked up, but letting the anger and pain from it go.” 

Dean’s head spun. Who the hell would he be if he could just let that anger go?

“Happy,” Charlie said. When Dean jumped a little, she added, “Yeah, I can read your mind.” 

“That’s cheating,” Dean said. 

“It’s helping, though, right?” Charlie asked. “Are your emotions still that damn hurricane in your chest?” 

Dean took a breath to tune in. He blinked several times in surprise. “Shit. Not really. It’s...better.” _Dammit, this talking thing worked._

She beamed and held out an axe. “You’re welcome.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and took it. “Smug doesn’t suit you.” 

“Smug fits me perfectly,” Charlie said. Dean threw the axe. It was closer to the center of the target. “And we’re not done. You’re gonna need to practice this--feeling and working through your feelings instead of drinking them down. It’s gonna take a lifetime of practice. And there will be times when it gets worse before it gets better.” 

Dean groaned. “Can’t it be once and done?” 

“Not a chance. But we can probably come back here. Maybe.” She glanced up. “I think my time is almost up, anyway. Better get you back.” 

Dean hated it, but he nodded. “Don’t want Gabe to get mad at you.” 

“Oh, he’s always mad at me. I still gotta report back, though.” She grinned. “Maybe next time we can talk about _how_ you love Cas.” 

Dean had a bad feeling about this. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Charlie pursed her lips and squinted at him. “We’ll deal with that next time. You’re a smart cookie.” Her eyes sparkled. “See if you can figure it out.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Help me carry these things back?” 

“Obviously.” They collected their axes, returned them, and walked back to the car. 

“Thanks, kid,” Dean said. 

Charlie wrapped her arms around him, and he relaxed, hugging her back. “You’re welcome. Happy to do my job.” 

“Your job as my annoying-little-sister-turned-shrink, or your job as an angel?” 

She shrugged. “Both. And as a Cupid, specifically. Not just an angel.” 

The wheels started turning in Dean’s head. “A Cupid? Specifically?” 

She shot him that damn impish grin. “Gotta go! Talk soon!” And with a soft rush of wings, she was gone. 

Dean shook his head. _Cupid. Not sure why the hell I need one of those, but fine._ He got back into the car and started driving back, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. 

Well, until Cas crash-landed onto the hood of the car. 


	7. Chapter 7

_Screech!_

Dean slammed on the brakes as his heart started working overtime. He nearly jumped out of the driver’s seat. “Cas, what the _hell_?!”

The angel slid off of the hood and smiled at him. “That was fun.” 

“That was dangerous and stupid and…” Dean’s jaw dropped a little. “What’s with all the bees?” 

“I told you. I went to study the bees,” Cas reminded him. 

As the adrenaline rush faded, Dean started to focus on the present moment. On Cas, smiling easily, covered in bees. 

Covered _only_ in bees. Dean’s furiously hammering heart skipped a beat. He could see more of Cas now, parts that were usually hidden by several layers of clothes. And the angel looked _good_. Strong arms, broad shoulders, a fit chest...and topped with those bright blue eyes and dark brown hair sticking out every which way? Dean felt suddenly dizzy. His stomach felt strange--like someone had sucker-punched him. “Where are your clothes, man?” 

“I spent millennia without clothes.” Cas frowned slightly. “I spent most of those millennia without a vessel, though.” 

Dean tried again, but this time, his voice was noticeably tight. “Why are you naked and covered in bees?” 

“Oh! That.” The easy smile came back. It reached the clear blue eyes, but something was still off about them. “I find I can communicate and be at one with the bees more easily when I’m not clothed. It’s more organic.” Cas’ eyes lit up. “You should try it sometime! Come with me.” 

“I can’t, man,” Dean said, shaking his head and instinctively backing away. “I gotta get back to Sam and Bobby. Stop the Leviathans. You remember those, right?” 

“I collected this honey for you,” Cas said. His easy smile got softer. If it were on anyone else’s face, Dean would have called it dreamy. “The bees found the most beautiful sunflowers, and when the sun hit their leaves just right, the color almost matched your eyes.” He held out a Ziploc bag full of honey.

Dean’s jaw dropped. His whole body felt strange--like someone had dumped a bucket of warm water on him. Not unpleasant, but still jarring. Not knowing what else to do, he held out his hand. Cas gently wrapped Dean’s fingers around it and squeezed lightly before letting go. “It’s ideal for tea or whiskey even, but it should be good on toast, too. I’ve heard humans enjoy a salty-sweet combination. Maybe you can put it on toast and add some bacon.” 

Dean was speechless. Utterly, completely speechless. 

Cas smiled at him with that same soft, gorgeous smile. “Goodbye, Dean.” There was a soft rush of wings, and Cas vanished. 

Dean looked at the honey and wondered if some of the bees had somehow gotten into his stomach. That would explain the tingling, nervous, butterfly sort of sensation that had taken root there. He shook his head. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. He got back in the car, gently put the honey in the passenger seat, and drove away. “Charlie, I know you saw that. I ain’t talking about it yet.” 

_Fair enough,_ said her voice in his head. _Should probably tell Sam and Bobby though._

“As long as I don’t have to talk about feelings, fine by me.” 

“How long can somebody actually spend at a damn axe-throwing range?” Bobby demanded when Dean finally walked in the door. 

He held up the bag of honey. “I got side tracked.” 

Sam walked over, frowning. “The hell is that?” 

“Honey. That a naked Cas decided to give me.” 

Sam and Bobby’s eyebrows went up. “He’s really lost it, huh?” 

And there it was, the feeling he’d been ignoring and burying under the anger: heartbreak. Pure, sharp, unadulterated heartbreak. Cas was gone. Again. “Yeah,” Dean said. He reached into the fridge for a beer. “Learn anything interesting?” 

“Interesting, yeah. But nothing good. And a new case popped up.” 

Dean gave Bobby a flat look. “Do we really have time for a normal case?” 

“Well, it overlaps with the Leviathans,” Bobby said. “Remember that town in Oregon? The one where they’re trying to buy up everything?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It looks like some cursed objects or something got released,” Sam said. “A ballerina spun to death.” He glanced up at his big brother. Dean saw a spark in Sam’s eyes that had been missing for a _long_ time. The kid really wanted to go on this case. “I’m betting the shoes are to blame.” 

“And there’s at least one store that Richard Roman Enterprises hasn’t been able to buy up yet,” Bobby added. “Figure we can find the sons of bitches selling things and gank ‘em. Or as close as we can get to ganking ‘em.” 

Dean frowned before nodding appreciatively. “Sounds fair to me. We’ll hit the road first thing.” He started walking towards the stairs.

“Were you at the axe-throwing range with somebody?” Sam asked. Dean turned around. “Or did you just throw shit by yourself?”

“Nah, just me,” Dean lied easily. _Shit._ He wanted to tell them about Charlie, but he didn’t know if that was okay. _Gotta ask her next time. Gotta ask my adopted-sister-turned-Cupid the next time she appears._ He shook his head and walked back to the table. “What do I need to know about the case?” 

Bobby and Sam filled him in. Dean nodded along, surprised at how much easier it was to focus on work after actually dealing with his emotions. Shit. Maybe Charlie was on to something. 

_Told ya_ , said her voice in his head.

Dean focused back on the case. They spent the rest of the night researching. “I’m calling it a night,” Sam said around midnight. “Got a long drive tomorrow.” 

“How’s your head, Sammy?” Dean asked. He’d been so damn caught up in the case he’d forgotten to check on his brother. 

“Fine. Really.” Sam chuckled lightly. “Actually, better than fine. I haven’t felt this good since…” He really laughed, then. “I have no idea.” His face fell. “We gotta fix Cas, though.” 

“Sam, we have enough on our plates as it is,” Dean said. “Literally.” He held up his physical plate, which held a sandwich overflowing with meat, cheese, and mayo.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I owe him, Dean.” Sam stared at his brother. “I’m not giving up on this.” 

“We owe him,” Bobby jumped in. “And if we can patch him up, having some angel mojo couldn’t hurt.” 

Hope peeked through the heartbreak like a plant desperately trying to break through soil. Yes, Dean desperately wanted Cas back. But could he afford to hope for that? 

_Might as well fake it for the others_ , he thought. Dean nodded slowly. “Okay. After this case. We deal with the case, then we deal with Cas.” 

Sam and Bobby looked at each other. Some sort of silent agreement passed between them, and they nodded. “Fair enough,” Bobby said. But something in his tone made Dean doubt he meant it. He knew Bobby and his brother too well to bother pressing the point, though. They’d let him in on whatever they were hiding soon enough. Or he’d dig until he found it.

Right before they all went to bed, Bobby said, “I’ll stay here. See if I can find something or someone that can fix Cas or send the Leviathans back to purgatory.” 

“Bobby--” Dean started.

“He’s family, Dean,” Sam jumped in. 

Dean looked at both of them before pointing back and forth, drawing an imaginary line between them in the air. “You talked about this without me.” 

Sam’s slightly sheepish look gave them away. _That’s_ what the look over dinner meant. 

“Family don’t end in blood, boy,” Bobby said. “Cas is family. He’s a stupid son of a bitch, but he’s family. And chances are, we’re not the only ones who want him on our side.” When Dean just frowned, Bobby added, “Don’t you think Crowley will want a word with the guy who screwed him? Or several words?” 

Fear verging on terror rushed through Dean, joined by a jolt of adrenaline so strong he almost started to run. “We gotta find him. Now.” 

“Relax,” Charlie said. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Bobby and Sam gaped at her. She’d appeared in the middle of the living room, lounging on the couch. She stood and smiled. “What’s up, bitches?” 

Bobby walked towards her slowly. “Charlie?” 

“Hey there, old man,” she said. She pulled him in for a hug. Bobby jumped when he realized she was solid. She smiled up at Sam as Bobby released her. “Sammy.” 

“Charlie.” Sam beamed and picked her up. She squealed, and for just a moment, Dean imagined that this was all that mattered. They were together and happy and whole. 

Except for Cas. 

“How are you here?” Sam asked in wonder. “How are you solid?” 

“Not a ghost,” she said. 

“Then what are you, kid?” Bobby asked. “We gave you a real funeral and everything.” 

“I’m a Cupid. In training. Kind of.” She winked at Dean. 

Sam and Bobby spun around. “You knew about this?” Bobby asked. 

“And you didn’t say anything?!” Sam jumped in. 

Dean threw up his hands. “Figured it wasn’t my story to share.” 

Sam ran a hand down his face. “Ok. Fine. Guess there’s no point in being mad.” 

Charlie shook her head. “None.” 

“How did this even happen?” Bobby asked. “Didn’t think anyone but God could make angels.” 

Dean headed back towards the stairs. “I’m gonna pack.” He’d heard this story already. “Charlie, you’ll keep an eye on Cas for us?” 

She nodded and gave him a mock salute. “I roped another angel into helping me out, too. Hannah.”

“Hannah?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows and grinning. 

“Shut it, Sammy,” she said, nudging his arm. “Cupids set up romances. We don’t have them ourselves.” 

“Cupid. And you’ve been bugging Dean,” Sam said, his grin growing. “So--”

“I think your head’s still a little off, Sam,” Dean said. Three sets of eyes that clearly said “bullshit” stared at him. He sighed. They were gonna talk no matter what he did. “I’m gonna pack. Don’t stay up all night gossiping. I ain’t the only one driving tomorrow.” 

“Night, Dean,” Charlie called. Dean disappeared as quickly as he could and prayed to whoever was listening that Sam wouldn’t grill him about his feelings the next day. He’d had enough of that for several months, at least.

The ride to Portland was uneventful until Sam decided to talk feelings. 

“You seem different,” Sam told Dean. 

Dean gave him his signature “what the fuck” look. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugged. “You seem different. Lighter. Did you finally get your head out of your ass and forgive Cas?” 

Dean bit back a snippy remark. Sam didn’t deserve that. “I had good reason to be mad at him, Sammy.” 

“We all did, Dean. And then he more than made up for it, in my opinion. So? Did you forgive him?” 

Dean exhaled heavily before taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m trying to not be mad at him anymore.” Sam’s eyebrows shot up, so Dean added, “Trying. He seriously, seriously screwed up. But being pissed isn’t gonna get me anywhere.” 

“Wow.” Sam smiled and laughed a little. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” 

“Shut up,” Dean said. 

“Dean, this is great. You’ve been carrying around all sorts of anger and shit that you don’t have to.” Sam’s eyebrows came together in a frown, but his lips were still quirked in a smile. “How did Charlie pull this off in a day?” 

“She made some good points,” Dean said. “And suggested the axe-throwing range.” 

Sam laughed again. “I’ll have to buy her a beer or something.” He made a face. “Do Cupids drink beer?” 

“They’re angels,” Dean said, “so I’m gonna go with no.”

Sam’s eyes sparkled with something--mischief. “Speaking of angels--”

“Sam,” Dean cut in, “I have talked about feelings more in the past three days than I have in years. I’m done.” His tone left no room for arguing. 

Except he was talking to Sam, who didn’t know when to stop. “I’m just trying to help,” he said in a tone that was sincere enough that Dean couldn’t fight him. 

Dean sighed. _Talk through your feelings,_ Charlie had told him. Fine. “I know,” he said. “Just...give me a minute. Or a week. Okay?” 

Sam nodded. “Okay.”

Bobby had been right. Going on a normal--or, at least, mostly normal--case was helpful. It felt good, familiar, productive. Dean knew how to do this. He knew how to handle cursed objects. He knew how to fake being an FBI agent, how to talk to people about the way their lives had gone sideways or been flipped upside down. This was worlds easier than dealing with the Leviathans, and it almost distracted him from thinking about Cas. 

“We gotta do some hacking,” Sam said that afternoon. It was their second day in Oregon, and Sam had talked Dean into working at a cafe. 

“That’s your wheelhouse, genius,” Dean reminded his brother. “Not mine.” He drank his coffee. “Damn. The coffee here is amazing.” 

Sam smiled. “Better, maybe. Amazing? We’re not in Seattle, Dean. Or Berkeley.” 

Dean made a face. “Berkeley?” 

“You know the guys who started Starbucks?” Dean nodded. “They were trained by the guy who started Peet’s. In Berkeley.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Well, look who’s gonna win Jeopardy for knowing random useless shit.” 

“Shut up,” Sam said before starting to type. His fingers paused over the keyboard. “Think there’s any chance Charlie could help us with this?” 

Dean shook his head. “Doubt it. She’s a Cupid now. Pretty sure her job is squarely about feelings.”

“Romantic feelings,” Sam said, grinning. 

“Shut. It,” Dean reminded him. He pointed to the computer. “Hack.” 

“What’re you gonna do? Sit there and look pretty?” 

Dean shrugged. “I’ve been doing that.” Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean continued. “I’ll see if I can interview somebody around here. I’ve got a feeling several folks died after selling their stores and homes.” 

“Or got replaced with our least favorite monsters,” Sam muttered. 

Dean downed the rest of his coffee. “See you at the motel.” 

One night, two dead Leviathans, and a locked safe of cursed objects later, they walked into their motel room. “I call showering first,” Sam said. 

“Bitch,” Dean told him. 

“Jerk,” Sam threw back lightly. Dean took off his jacket and tie and waited until Sam was in the bathroom to open his flask and take a nice, long swig. 

He knew Charlie wouldn’t want him to drink. He knew she’d want him to deal with his feelings. But Sam kept poking and prodding at shit about Cas, and he was reaching his breaking point. Thinking about that meant opening the Pandora’s box of feelings he’d been avoiding since glancing at them at the axe-throwing range. The feelings that scared the absolute shit out of him. _And_ he was sleep-deprived. He read over the real estate files Sam had found before calling Bobby. “Anything new?” 

“Looks like your buddy was right,” Bobby said. “They do want to cure cancer.” 

“That’s...good?” Dean asked.

“Only if the survivors can still think independently when they leave their hospitals,” Bobby said. “Looks like they’re working on something that’ll shut our brains down. Make us mindless, highly suggestible. Humans will be lambs going to the slaughter.” 

“Shit,” Dean said. He took another swig of whiskey. “Anything, uh, else?” 

“Nothing,” Charlie chirped. “I’m sorry, Dean. We’re still looking.” 

Dean swallowed the wave of disappointment. “S’okay.” Sam walked out of the bathroom. “We’ll come back first thing in the morning.” 

“See you soon. Watch your back,” Bobby reminded him. 

Dean hung up. The shower helped clear his head a little, but not quite enough. He was still worried about Cas. He was terrified to admit to anyone just how worried he was. And, yeah. He missed the stupid son of a bitch. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, either, but he missed him. He missed that stupid voice and those stupid eyes and--

 _What the hell am I thinking?_ He finished getting ready for bed and slept fitfully, visions of Leviathans and Cas covered in bees flooding his dreams. 

“Welcome home,” Bobby said when they walked in the door. “Got anything for me?”

“Two Leviathan bodies in the trunk,” Sam told him. “We dropped the heads in the river.” 

Bobby nodded. Dean noticed the mess of papers strewn everywhere, the dishes in the sink. “What happened here?” He looked around for his favorite redhead. No sign of her. “Where’s Charlie?” 

Bobby took a breath. He was oddly pale. “Looking for our favorite crazy angel.” 

Dean dropped his bag. “Where is he now?” 

Bobby didn’t respond. 

“ _Where is he now?_ ” Dean asked again. 

“They, uh...kind of lost him,” Bobby said. 

White hot anger rose in Dean, and it took all of his self-control to not spew it all over Bobby. _Not his fault,_ he reminded himself. “They?” 

“Charlie and her angel buddy.” 

“How do you lose an angel whose piñata is cracked?” Sam asked.

“Apparently he’s not good at staying in one place,” Bobby explained. “He’s constantly flying. And Charlie thinks he realized they were tracking him.” 

Dean ran a hand down his face, trying desperately to keep the terror churning in his stomach contained.

“How?” Sam asked. “How’d he figure that out?”

“Because he’s a smart son of a bitch, even with Lucifer riding shotgun,” Bobby said. 

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean said in a low voice that almost broke. He reached into the fridge and pulled out a beer.

“Dean, you okay?” Sam asked. 

“Fine.” 

“Want to call Charlie?” 

“No,” Dean said. “She should focus on finding Cas.” He vaguely remembered a poster he’d seen earlier. “I’ve got an idea, though. It’s national bee day. Look for some place that’s big on bees.” 

“National bee day?” 

“There was a poster thing at a farmers’ market.” 

“You went to a farmers’ market?” Bobby asked. 

“It was Sam’s idea,” Dean explained. He grabbed his bag and started walking up the stairs. “I’ll fill Charlie in.” 

“I'll start digging,” Sam said. 

“I’ll deal with the bodies,” Bobby said. Dean nodded his thanks and walked away, finding his flask and chugging the rest of the whiskey in it. _Follow anything that’s celebrating bees, Charles,_ he thought. _Cas is crazy about them._ And before he could filter the idea, one more thought slipped out: 

_Bring him home._

**Sam**

A few hours later, Dean slowly closed his laptop. It was an exaggerated and mournful motion. It made Sam think of a casket going into the ground, and it worried him. “Dean?” he asked.

“It’s national bee day, Sammy.” Dean wouldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. “National bee day.” 

“Okay,” Sam said. 

Dean looked at his almost-empty beer bottle, as if it held answers to anything. It was his third of the night. Not that he was counting. Only Sammy would do that. “What’s so special about bees, anyway?” 

“Uh…” Sam had a couple ideas, but he didn’t think Dean actually wanted an answer. 

“I mean, they’re tiny. They’re obnoxious. The stinging thing hurts.” Dean finished his beer. He squinted at it before standing quickly and wobbling a little. “We got anything stronger?” 

“You got whiskey,” Sam reminded him, nodding at the brown paper bag sitting on the counter. 

Dean found it and transferred his melancholy gaze to the amber liquid. “Almost honey-colored,” he said. “Ever had honey whiskey, Sammy?” 

“In college, I think,” Sam said, still having absolutely no idea where this was going. 

“Honey whiskey,” Dean mumbled. “Honey and bees and...friggin’ angels, man.” He took a swig of whiskey right from the bottle. “See you tomorrow, Sammy.” 

_Oh._ Sam put the pieces together. This was about Cas. Cas, who had shown up naked and covered in bees not too long ago. Cas, who had betrayed them. Cas, who Dean had never stopped missing. 

Sam opened a beer. 

**Dean**

Dean stared at the whiskey. “Friggin’ bees, man,” he muttered to himself before chugging some more, welcoming the burn. Maybe if he could focus on that, he could forget everything else. Forget the blue eyes that haunted him, the apology he never had time to accept. Maybe the burn in his throat could overpower the ache in his heart, even if it couldn’t numb it. 

Numbing it was preferable, of course. He was Dean Winchester. He didn’t have time for _feelings_. Especially feelings about an angel. An angel who was a man, at one point. A man with messy dark hair and--

Dean blamed the bees. He’d always blame the bees, he decided, toasting the thought with more whiskey. He’d always worn that damn trenchcoat. And more layers under it. So seeing the body of the angel he thought he knew covered only in bees, well...it surprised him, to say the least. He knew the guy was strong, but he thought it was part of the angel juice. Dean didn’t realize how fit he was. And it was only on quiet nights, when Sammy wasn’t around and when there wasn’t anything else to distract him, that he remembered how much he’d _liked_ how fit the angel was. Really, really liked it. He’d wanted--god, he’d _wanted_ \--

No. Whiskey. He’d always had whiskey. Whiskey tonight and a job tomorrow. _Bury it down, Winchester_ , he reminded himself in a voice that sounded an awful lot like his father. He hated that voice. The beers and the whiskey and the goddamn _bees_ made him remember how much he hated that stupid voice. And how much he hated himself for hating that voice. 

He longed for a record player, for the familiar chords of Led Zeppelin songs. But even music brought up pain. He was going to make a mix-tape, he remembered. He was going to make a mix-tape for Cas. Before the Leviathans, before the current shit show they were living in, he was going to make a mix-tape for Cas.

Cas. The name, the nickname _he’d_ coined for the nerd in the trenchcoat, was an earthquake, a devastation in his mind. Blue eyes and wild hair. Scant inches of space between them. Intense, burning looks and glances and a voice like gravel. 

_Hello, Dean._

_God,_ he could still hear it in his head, clear as day. Clear as anything. Maybe if he drank more, Dean thought as he reached for the whiskey again, it would fade. He took another sip, prayed it would work. 

Nope. Just a burn. 

Sometimes, whiskey helped. Sometimes it softened the pain of loss. Sometimes it made him forget. 

This was not one of those nights. Nope. This was the kind of night Dean hated. 

This time, the whiskey (with the help of the beers) revealed. It cracked open. It shone in the dark places of Dean that he’d hidden from everyone, especially himself. It brought the part of him that had stared at Cas, covered in bees, into sharp relief. The part that woke up that day. 

Dean tried to fight those memories, but apparently feelings had a starring role in this drunken reverie. That part of him tugged. It was curious. It reached for Cas, wondered, wanted to--

No. That part of him died when Cas went crazy, if it had ever been real in the first place. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to ignore the hints that Charlie had been dropping since they went to the axe-throwing range. Just before drifting off into sleep, he remembered. 

He’d wanted to make a mix-tape. 


	8. Chapter 8

It was a good dream this time, which scared Dean even more. 

He was in a house--a _house_ \--and instinctively knew it was his home. He was sitting on a leather couch that was clearly well loved, but not too loved. Comfy in all the right places. Still clean.

There was a book on the coffee table. With a closer look, Dean realized it was a photo album. And with a lurch in his stomach, he realized it was his family. 

No, not just his family. His _wedding_. 

The cover held a photo of him and Cas in matching tuxes, beaming. He opened it with a shaking hand and noticed, for the first time, the shining wedding band on his left ring finger. 

_What the hell?_

He flipped through the pages. Sam was clearly the best man. There was a photo of everyone else laughing, and Dean just looking at Cas, a smile on his face and love in his eyes. Their first dance was documented a few pages later. The way Cas was looking at him...like Dean was his whole world, like nothing else mattered. 

And Dean looked at Cas in the exact same way. 

Dean could barely recognize himself. Was that really him? Smiling like that? He’d clearly just gotten a haircut and was overflowing with joy. Expressions shifted from gooey eyes, to beaming smiles, to his head thrown back in laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners. Dean Winchester. _Happy_. Relaxed. At home.

No, Dean didn’t recognize himself at all. 

Dean smelled coffee and...onions? Garlic? His stomach grumbled. 

“Breakfast!” a cheery female voice called. 

_Charlie?_

Dean walked into the kitchen, completely bewildered. Sure enough, a smiling Charlie and Sam were cooking. Well, Sam was cooking. Charlie was setting the table. 

“I could’ve done it,” she said. 

“Yeah. Sure,” Sam said with a generous helping of snark. “And burned the house down.” He saw Dean for the first time. “Hey, bro. Where’s your man?” 

“My...uh…” Dean had never felt so disoriented. 

“Right here,” said a grumbly, sleepy voice. 

Dean spun around. His jaw dropped. 

Cas was in a robe. And boxers. And a crumpled white T-shirt. His hair was wild. He’d clearly slept on it funny. 

Some part of Dean’s brain registered that thought. _Cas slept. Cas can’t sleep._

“Cas?” he asked, his voice embarrassingly small. 

“Hey, babe,” Cas said. He kissed Dean on the cheek. “There’s coffee, right? Please say there’s coffee left.” 

“Right here, dude,” Charlie said. She handed him a cup. Cas took and squeezed Dean’s hand before taking the coffee.

_Cas is human._ Dean didn’t know how he knew, but he knew. And it took his breath away.

He was wrong before. _This_ was the most disoriented he’d ever felt. Something about it made his heart break wide open. He wanted to cry. 

“How do you like your heaven?” a different voice said. 

Dean spun around again and saw Gabriel. “What the hell is this?” he said. 

Gabe rolled his eyes. “I just told you, dingus. Your heaven.” 

“So I’m dead?” Dean asked in the same small voice. There was a knot in his throat. He tried to clear it. No such luck. 

“No. Just sleeping.” Gabe froze the scene with a wave. Sam was finishing the egg scramble. Charlie was smirking at Dean. Cas seemed enamored with his coffee. A wedding band that matched Dean’s shone on his finger. 

Dean could barely speak. He couldn’t look away from the scene. “Charlie’s…”

“A Cupid.” Gabe somehow managed to pull off a full-body eyeroll.

“And Cas is…” 

“Still an angel, dumbass.” Gabe said. He locked Dean into a stare that reminded him just how powerful the little twerp was. “Listen to me, for once. Cas is an angel, but being with him? That’s the one part of this you can actually change in real life.” 

Dean’s jaw dropped. “But…”

Gabe waved a finger. “No. No buts.” His look conveyed a power that made Dean want to run and hide, but he couldn’t look away. “I’ve been watching you idiots. _This is important_. Love is the most powerful magic, remember? The only place where the holy and the magical collide?” 

Dean vaguely remembered someone saying that. “Yeah.” 

Gabe clapped Dean on the shoulder. “You’re gonna need it. You’re all gonna need it. Remember how Cas got his memory back by saving you?” 

_Holy shit._ “Yeah.” 

“And how Charlie’s a Cupid? Talking with you? You picking up what I’m throwing down?” 

Dean knew where this was going, and it scared the shit out of him. He nodded. 

“Also,” Gabe added, rolling his eyes, “Charlie hacked freaking angel radio. She played “Baby Shark” on repeat for a month before I listened. And then demanded that I get involved with you and Cas. Interrupted waaaaaaay too many sexy times.” 

In spite of everything, Dean grinned. “Yeah, she told me.” 

Gabe ignored that. “So get your head out of your ass, get your shit together, and get your angel. Got it?” 

“But--” Dean started. 

The vision and the archangel disappeared. Dean was back in his room at the cabin, back in his bed. Shaking.

It was too much. The events of the past several days, the vision, Gabe’s command, the glimpse of a happiness he could never fully have. The hint of one that he _could_ , just maybe, have.

Dean hated himself for it, but he curled up in a ball and cried. He was completely overwhelmed. Actually, truth be told, he was beyond overwhelmed. He’d passed overwhelmed days ago. 

_Cas? Really? But I like women. And Cas is an angel. And a dude._

But the past few weeks had kicked his defenses, every instinct and desire he’d been hiding from himself, down to the point where they crumbled into ash. Dean remembered all of the men over the years who he’d been, if he was being completely honest, slightly obsessed with. The actors he’d followed, the ones whose lines he’d memorized. The way he’d admired everything about their bodies and tried to imitate them. 

He’d thought that was something all guys did. But looking back, Sammy had never said or done anything like that. Shit. Had he been attracted to those actors all along? It didn’t feel like attraction to women. But it didn’t feel like the handful of friendships he’d had, either.

And then Cas. _Cas._ God--just thinking the angel’s name sparked a bonfire of emotions Dean felt to his toes. Their friendship--relationship was probably a better word, truth be told--was like nothing Dean had ever felt. The way Cas had stuck around over the years certainly had had an impact on that intensity. Not everyone came back from the dead. Or came back to the Winchesters. To Dean, specifically. 

Dean remembered the ways Cas’ betrayals had felt. The agonizing pain of losing him. The mess of emotions he’d been feeling since Cas’ memory came back and since he took the crazy from Sam--a rush of relief that was so quickly replaced by horrible, gut-wrenching pain. The way he missed Cas--the sound of his voice, his smell, the way he looked at Dean. It was worse than missing a friend. It had an extra kick; it resonated more deeply.

_Fuck_. Dean buried his head under the covers. He wanted to run away from this. He’d give fucking anything to run away from this. 

_The only way out is through,_ Charlie had said. Dean rubbed his eyes and sat up. Took another deep breath. He’d actually managed to get drunk the night before, but that didn’t save him from this. He rubbed one hand down his face. _Fine_. He’d think through his stupid, stubborn, irrational feelings. He got out of bed, quickly and quietly, and went down to the kitchen to get some water. 

As he filled up the glass, Dean tried to remember how he felt about Lisa and Carrie. Sex with them was fun, sure. He’d loved them. But compared to how he felt about Cas? Those feelings were small campfires, contained by the borders of a fire pit. His feelings about Cas were a bonfire, wild and raging. 

_FUCK. I can’t be gay. I can’t be gay._

What was that word Charlie had used, back when she was alive and talking about girls she liked, for some of the girls she met? Bi? Queer? People who liked men and women. 

_People who liked men and women._

Dean was physically tired and hurt and emotionally worn out enough that his internal defenses stayed down, and he felt something click inside of him. Yep. He liked men _and_ women. He knew it in his bones. 

Okay. He took a deep breath and drank some water to stem down the wave of panic that was threatening to rise. He liked men and women. But did he want to have sex with men? 

A new memory popped into Dean’s mind, unbidden. Cas, covered in bees. Cas, covered in only bees. That strange feeling he’d had in his stomach. 

Arousal. Cas had looked hot. Gorgeous and sexy and hot. He’d wanted Cas in a way he’d never wanted anyone, and he’d just shoved himself too far into the closet to recognize the damn feeling for what it was. 

Dean had to lean against the kitchen counter. His knees had gone weak with the pressure of his realizations: he was bisexual. He was capable of falling in love and wanting to have sex with men and women. And in this moment, he was in love with Cas. Probably had been all along, truth be told. And he wanted to sleep with Cas. Considering all the times he’d stared at Cas’ lips instead of those incredible blue eyes, he’d probably wanted that for a long time, too. 

And Charlie was going to rub it all in his face any fucking minute. But he needed sleep. Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker did he need sleep. So he took his water, went back upstairs, closed the door to his room, and whispered, “Charlie?” 

_Hey, buddy,_ he heard in his head. _Still looking for Cas. You ok?_

He sighed. _Not really. But I think I mostly need to sleep. Realized a couple of pretty big things._

Charlie hummed, and he knew she was reading his mind. _Proud of you. Go ahead and sleep. We’ll talk later, okay?_

Dean nodded. _Okay._

_I love you._

Dean smiled. _I know._ The Star Wars reference had been a joke between them for years. He’d thought enough about love for the night. 

Dean sighed one more time, put down his water, and closed his eyes. Just before he fell asleep, he realized how free he felt. Acknowledging his sexuality felt like opening a floodgate, yeah. But opening that floodgate was more freeing than he could put into words. 

Dean slept more soundly that night than he had in years.


	9. Chapter 9

Bobby and Sam were already up by the time Dean made it downstairs. “Found a case,” Bobby told him. “Something keeps killing campers. Their hearts are torn out.”

Dean stared at him blearily. “Thought we had the Leviathans to deal with?” He poured himself a cup of coffee.

“We do,” Sam admitted. 

“We’ve already got two cases going.” When they didn’t react or respond, Dean kept going. “Saving Cas? Stopping an apocalypse again?” He took a nice, long sip of his coffee. 

“Maybe,” Bobby said. “But the world’s still spinning. None of the usual dickheads have gone away. And,” he shuffled some papers, “if a local legend is true, there’s something powerful in those woods that could help us help Cas.” He shrugged. “Figured you boys could kill two birds with one stone.” 

Dean’s chest felt lighter than it had in days. They could save Cas. “Okay,” he said. “Tell me more about this local legend.” He made a happy sound when he saw bacon on the stove. “And, uh, thanks to whoever made this.” 

Bobby smiled and raised his coffee mug in a toast.

“Apparently, there’s been some sort of benevolent and powerful force or being there for centuries,” Sam said. “The land recovers more quickly from a drought or a fire than other places. And the forest is old. Really old. People think there’s someone or something there protecting the trees.” 

“But not stopping werewolves?” Dean asked. 

“This is the first time anyone’s been killed there for decades,” Bobby interjected. “And people live longer. The hospital hasn’t been overwhelmed or overrun for decades.” 

“Huh. Okay, then. Let’s check it out.” He went back to his coffee, planning on drinking it quickly. 

“Let’s wait a bit,” Sam said. “I want to do some more research first.” 

Dean forced down his impatience. “Okay.” 

“Any news from Charlie?” Sam asked in a slightly apologetic tone. 

Dean choked. “Uh, no. Not yet.”

Sam’s look was somewhere between pitying and that stupid puppy dog face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Dean waved, cutting him off. “Don’t.” 

Sam sighed. “We all miss him, Dean. Might as well talk about it.” 

“Or not.” Dean made his way to the stairs. “Seems like this’ll be an overnight gig. I’m gonna pack a bag.” He could feel Sam and Bobby’s pitying eyes on him as he walked away. No. He’d deal with them later. They meant well, but he was barely keeping it together. 

Cas was missing. Cas, who he just realized he was fucking _in love with_ , was missing.

Shit. He’d have to come out to Sam and Bobby. “Shit,” he said out loud. He did his best to shake it off, shower, and finish packing. 

In a way, accepting his sexuality was freeing. Absolutely goddamn terrifying, but freeing. Dean knew in his bones that it had always been true. It felt like a part of himself was just opening up. But holy fucking hell did it scare the shit out of him. How would Sam react? How would Bobby react? How would _Cas_ react, assuming they could fix him? 

His dad had always encouraged him to be a man, and to be a man meant being manly. Strong. Listening to classic rock. Getting with beautiful women. Saving people. Hunting things. Granted, he could do most of those things and still be bi. 

Bi. Two little letters making a one-syllable word had never been so powerful. 

_This is good,_ he tried to tell himself. 

_Don’t panic,_ said Charlie’s voice in the back of his head. She showed up in front of him and his mostly-packed bag with a soft rush of wings. “You’re doing great,” she said out loud. 

“This is…” He shook his head. 

“A lot. I know.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Can you tell me more?” 

“If we can go throw some more axes, then yeah. Just let me tell Sam.” He stuck his head out of the bedroom door. “Sammy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Going axe-throwing. Be back in a bit.” 

“Ohhhkay,” Sam said. Dean could hear the questions layered in his tone. Fortunately, his little brother didn’t ask any of them. “Have fun!”

Charlie gave him a little half-smile and took his hand. “Hang on.” 

They appeared just at the edge of the range, safely out of sight. “Any leads on Cas?” Dean asked, trying to hide how nervous he was.

Charlie shook her head sadly. “No, not yet. But Hannah’s looking. He’s just constantly flying. Never stays still for long, and there’s no pattern to where he goes that we can figure out.” She gave Dean an unusually serious look. “Keep in mind--it’s one thing to find him. It’s another thing to keep him from running away, and a whole other shindig to get him to come with us.” 

Dean nodded, letting that sink in. 

“This is gonna be a process, buddy,” Charlie said, putting her hand on his arm. “But we’ll get him.” 

Dean nodded, fighting the fear that was threatening to explode out of him in tears. “Yeah. Okay.” 

She squeezed his arm reassuringly before letting go. “Come on. Let’s throw some shit.” 

Once they’d settled in by their target, Charlie said, “I know about the dream.” 

Dean almost dropped the axe he was holding. “What dream?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Your heaven dream. I got Gabe involved.” 

“That was _your_ fault?” 

She threw up her hands. “You weren’t getting it! You needed something drastic.” 

Dean almost yelled at her but decided to throw an axe instead. Oddly enough, he instantly felt calmer. “Yeah. Maybe.” 

She picked up an axe, weighing it in her hand. “So. How are you feeling?” 

“Can’t we just throw these things?” 

“Can you hunt with a clear head if we don’t actually talk about this?” She pointed the axe at him for added emphasis. “And _think_ before you answer.” She threw it.

Dean sighed but did what she asked. He knew she wouldn’t let him leave before they talked this out, and since she was his only ride, might as well get the “feelings talk” over with. “Not really.” 

“Okay.” She crossed her arms, but there was a slight smile on her face. “Talk me through it. What are you thinking? Feeling?” 

He sighed heavily before picking up his next axe. “Is bisexuality really a thing? Or is it just a phase people go through?” 

Charlie pursed her lips. “Kind of both. Sometimes people--like yours truly--try to convince themselves they’re bi or genuinely think they’re bi before coming out as gay. Sometimes people realize that they genuinely are attracted to both men and women.” 

“Even when they’re in their late 20’s or early 30’s?” Dean asked. His voice was getting smaller, more timid. He hated it, but he knew Charlie wouldn’t judge him for it. He threw his axe.

“Yep. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later. There’s no right or wrong timeline.” She picked up another axe and threw it, giving Dean a welcome moment of quiet to collect his thoughts. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Charlie said softly. “Absolutely nothing.” 

Dean’s shoulders relaxed. He had no idea how badly he’d needed to hear that before she said it. “Glad you think that.” He threw another axe. “Not sure Bobby and Sam will agree.” 

“They’re fine with me being gay, right?” She waved for him to follow her as she walked towards their target. They’d run out of axes. 

“Well, yeah. Of course. But that’s different.” 

“How?” Charlie asked. 

Dean frowned as he yanked out several axes. “I dunno. Just is.” 

Charlie exhaled heavily. “Spoiler alert, buddy. You’re the only person in your life who didn’t know you were--still are--in love with Cas.” 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” 

She grinned. “Not even a little. So, no. I don’t think they’ll think there’s something wrong with you. Hell--I don’t even think they’ll be surprised.” 

Dean took a deep breath in and out. “Okay.” He nodded to himself before taking another axe. “Okay.” He weighed it in his hand, let Charlie throw hers first. “So how do I tell them? When do I tell them? Do I have to tell them?” 

“If you wanna date Cas, you’ll have to tell them.” 

“Maybe I don’t want to date Cas,” Dean said, a hint of belligerence in his voice. 

Charlie burst out laughing--doubled-over, running out of air laughing. “Shut up,” Dean grumbled. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, still laughing. “It’s just--” She stood slowly. “Whoo. Buddy. The dream. Me as a _Cupid_. Your own damn feelings for the past few fucking years.” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you really gonna pretend you don’t want to date him?” 

“He’s a fucking angel, Charlie.” Dean threw an axe a little more carelessly than he meant to. It landed in their lane, but he still winced. His aim had _never_ been that bad. “Can he even...you know…” 

“Fall in love?” Charlie’s impish smile came back. “I don’t know. What do you think?” 

“I think I’ve talked more about feelings since you’ve come back than I have my entire fucking life and it’s your damn turn,” Dean grumbled. 

“Fair enough.” She put a hand on one of her hips, standing so she was mostly balanced on that leg. “Pretty sure Gabe already gave this away, but here’s my two cents. Which I think you know already.” 

Dean gave her an impatient flat look before throwing another axe. 

“Cas is different from other angels. He feels things almost as intensely as you do.” She grabbed an axe. “If any angel is capable of loving a human, it’d be him.” 

Dean tried valiantly to hold back the hope and butterflies that rushed through his system. “Okay.” He checked his watch. “We should get back. We need to head to Colorado soon.” 

Charlie nodded. “You okay? And think about it before you answer--don’t bullshit me. Or yourself. I _will_ call you on it.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and neck, but he listened. “Yeah,” he said, slowly nodding. “Yeah. I’m okay. Better, at least.” He ruffled her hair. “Thanks, kid.” 

She grinned. “You betcha. Let’s go.” She took his hand and pulled him to a hidden corner before whisking them away. 


	10. Chapter 10

Charlie brought them right to the living room. Sam and Bobby lit up. “‘Sup, bitches?” she asked. 

“Hey, kid,” Bobby said. 

Something clicked in Sam’s eyes--puzzle pieces falling into place. “So you’re the one he goes axe-throwing with?” 

Charlie nodded. “I figured it’d be easier to talk about feelings if we were also throwing sharp objects.” 

Sam laughed. “Genius. Don’t know why I haven’t thought of that.” 

“I have already passed my yearly quota of feelings chats,” Dean warned.

Charlie made a questioning noise. “Shut it,” Dean told her, ruffling her hair. 

She grinned. “I think you have some more chats coming.” 

“I think we have to hit the road,” Dean said, waving between him and Sam. “Got some vamps to kill and a legend to check out.” 

“And I’ve got an angel to find,” Charlie said. She gave them a mock salute. “Later, bitches.” And she was gone. 

Sam shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Still can’t quite believe it.” 

“Gotta be more specific than that, kid,” Bobby said. “There’s been a lot of ‘I can’t quite believe it’ shit going down lately.”

“Charlie’s a Cupid.”

Bobby shrugged. “Crazier things have happened. Speaking of crazy…” He turned to Dean. “Any updates on Cas?”

Dean shook his head. “He keeps flying around with no rhyme or reason, apparently.” A new thought occurred to him. “Guess the plus side is no one can track him--demons or Leviathans or angels.”

“We could pray to him,” Sam suggested.

“And then what?” Bobby asked. “Even if he hears us and gets here, then we’ve gotta deal with an angel with a busted piñata. He’s a loose cannon.”

“He’s _our_ loose cannon,” Sam reminded him. Something soft warmed up in Dean’s chest. Cas was family to all of them.

“Which is why you two are gonna check out whatever power source is in those woods,” Bobby said. 

Dean nodded, feeling a new sense of relief. They had a plan. But ugh. Feelings. He was sick of them. “Sammy, you almost ready to go?” 

Sam nodded before standing. “Give me five minutes.” He tucked his hair behind his ears before heading upstairs. 

“Give me five minutes with the clippers and your friggin’ hair would stop falling in your face,” Dean muttered under his breath. 

“Huh?” Sam called. 

“Nothing,” Dean said as Bobby snorted. The older hunter studied Dean, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Dean started collecting the maps strewn over the table. 

“You seem better,” Bobby said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked. 

Bobby shrugged. “Less angry. Less drinking.” He frowned a little. “What did Charlie do?”

Dean snorted. “Took me axe throwing. Wouldn’t leave me alone until I talked. Convinced Gabriel to send me a dream that opened up a whole can of worms.” 

Bobby’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Gabriel, who’s actually alive and helped her become a Cupid, sent you a dream?” 

_Shit._ Dean wasn’t ready for this conversation. Not even _close_. “I’m gonna get my bag,” Dean said, not even trying to change the subject smoothly.

“What kind of dream was it?” Bobby asked, sounding confused and curious. 

Dean exhaled heavily. “I don’t want to talk about it.” When Bobby’s frown lingered, he added, “I’ve talked more since Charlie came back than I have…” He pursed his lips while he was thinking. “Probably ever. I’m _tired_ , man.” 

Bobby held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, then.” 

Sam ran down the stairs with his bag. “Ready?” 

“I’m packed. Just let me get my stuff,” Dean grumbled, heading up the stairs. Shit. He didn’t know what kind of dream Bobby thought he’d had, but he didn’t have it in him to care. Finally-- _finally_ \--they had a case to focus on. Something normal. Something to distract him from his revelations of the past few hours. 

Dean had forgotten just how friggin’ nosy his moose of a brother could be.

“So, you gonna tell me what you and Charlie talked about?” he asked. 

Dean frowned at him, his eyes going wide. “Dude. No. I said I’d met my quota.” 

They pulled into the closest gas station. “Okay,” Sam said. “Just…” He pinned Dean with an unusually earnest and open look. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“Yeah, man, I know,” Dean said, trying to brush it off. He reached for the door handle.

“Dean.” Something in Sam’s voice stopped him. “I’m serious.” 

Dean turned back to his brother and saw something new in the puppy dog look: a little bit of sadness. “Anything. I’m here for you, man. I mean, I know I’ve been a basket case lately, but--” 

“I know,” Dean said. Sam didn’t look any happier. Dean sighed. “Dude, if you’ve got something to say, just say it. Why do you look like somebody...I don’t know...killed your puppy or something?” 

Sam ran a hand down his face. “Dunno.” He shrugged. “Guess I just wish you’d talk to your own brother about whatever you’re going through. Not just Charlie with her angel mojo or whatever.”

Dean let his head fall back onto the head rest. He wanted to brush this off. He wanted to drive and blast classic rock and ignore his feelings for a few hours. 

But dammit all to hell, he loved the stupid son of a bitch next to him too damn much. “Sammy, it’s…” He ran a hand down his face. “Dammit. I’m no good at this shit.” 

“I know,” Sam said. 

Dean stared into space, thinking. This was _Sam_. He’d gone to hell for the kid. If he could do that, couldn’t he talk to him? 

_Not yet,_ answered every damn instinct he had. He sighed. “I will talk to you.” Sam scoffed. “Dammit, Sam, I mean it this time. I just...” Dean shook his head, staring up at the roof of the car. “I need some time. I wasn’t kidding about that quota. Just...let me clear my head first, okay? I need something normal, man. A case. Gas station coffee. Our cheap Fed suits. A long stretch of open road.” He looked over at Sam. “Just give me some time.”

Sam met his eyes. The puppy dog look had faded. He nodded slowly, reading something that must have looked like sincerity in Dean’s eyes. “Yeah. Okay.” 

“Don’t say ‘yeah okay’ like ‘yeah okay,” Dean griped. “I’m trying here, man.” 

“I know,” Sam said in a placating tone that somehow wasn’t condescending. He nodded a couple of times. “Okay. I’ll give you time.” 

Dean’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.” 

“Bobby might not. And I’m not letting this go.” 

Dean groaned and got out of the car. “I’ll get the grub. You get the gas.” 


	11. Chapter 11

Fortunately, for once in his friggin’ life, Sam listened to Dean. The rest of the drive was filled with classic rock and a few tidbits about the case. 

“Motel to change, then hit up the sheriff’s station?” Dean asked. 

Sam nodded. They pulled into the first motel they found and got a room without a problem. Dean grabbed a newspaper. 

“Looks like there’s been another death,” he told Sam as they walked into the room. “Same deal. Heart cut out.” 

“If there’s something really powerful here, shouldn’t it take care of this?” Sam asked, changing into his Fed suit. 

“Maybe it doesn’t have the juice. Or doesn’t care.” 

“Or has bigger problems to deal with,” Sam said. “Have you read the news lately? The federal news?” 

“I’ve been a little busy, Sammy. But I’ve kept up with the Leviathan mess.” He frowned. “Why?” 

“The Orange One rolled back federal protections and regulations on a bunch of national parks. Including this one.” Sam shook his head. “Dick, Inc. will probably take advantage of it soon.” 

Dean groaned as he got changed. “Just what we need.” 

The interview with the sheriff was pretty standard. “Only weird thing is, it’s not a full moon,” Sam said as they walked back to the car. 

“Yeah.” Dean frowned. “Think we could be looking at the alpha werewolf?” 

Sam sighed. “God, I hope not. Thought we were done with that mess.” 

“So did I.” 

“Are there other werewolves who can turn without the full moon?” 

“I think so,” Dean said, taking out his phone. “I’ll call Bobby to check.” 

The phone rang three times before a very stressed-sounding Bobby picked up. “What?”

“Whoa, take it easy,” Dean said. “Quick question for you.” 

“Shoot.” There was some muffled shouting in the background.

Dean frowned and hit the speakerphone button. “Pureblood werewolves can turn anytime, right? Not just the full moon?” 

“Uh, yeah. That’s right.” More muffled noises. 

“Everything okay there?” Sam asked. 

“Yep. Fine.” 

“Stay put!” yelled a female voice. “Or you’ll burn yourself!”

“Is that Charlie?” Sam asked. “Or is Jody visiting again?” 

“It’s Charlie,” Bobby said. Sam and Dean heard a muffled “I’m coming” from the older hunter. 

“The hell?” Dean asked. 

“Dean!” 

Dean gasped. Audibly gasped like some preteen seeing her friggin’ crush. “Cas?”

“Dean,” came Cas’ voice. He sounded _happy_. “I found more honey. And a board game. I tried to bring them to you, but you’re not here.” 

Dean tilted his head down so Sam wouldn’t see the look on his face. If it matched how he felt, he looked fucking devastated. “Cas, I’m sorry, buddy. We’re on a case.” 

“Yes! Squirrel and Moose are adventuring!” 

“Squirrel and…” Sam trailed off. “Charlie?” 

“He’s got a nice comfy ring of holy fire around him,” Charlie said. “It’s the only way we could convince him to stay put.” 

“Jesus,” Dean muttered. “Cas, buddy, you gotta stay there, okay?” 

“You’re seeing wolves, right? Wolves are friends!” 

“Jesus fuck, what is he on?” Dean said under his breath. 

Sam’s expression was getting darker and more guilt-ridden by the minute. “Not these wolves, buddy. You stay put. We’ll be back as soon as we can, okay?”

“Stay put.” Dean could almost imagine Cas nodding. “Okay.” There was a pause before a gasp. “But the cherry blossoms are blooming! The bees will--” 

“ _No_ , Cas,” said Charlie and Bobby in unison. Dean was chuckling. This was better--and infinitely worse--than the time Cas drank a liquor store. “Friggin’ bees,” he muttered. He and Sam pulled into the motel. 

“We’re gonna go, okay guys?” Sam said. “Cas, stay there. We’ll be back as soon as we can.” 

“Okay. Maybe I can play with the fire--”

“No, Cas,” said everyone else on the call.

“But fire is--” 

Sam hung up before Dean could hear Cas’ argument for playing with holy fire. Sam laughed lightly. “Apparently Cas is a happy crazy.” 

“More like a five-year-old crazy,” Dean mumbled. 

“Or a happy drunk crazy.” 

Dean nodded. “Yep. That’s it.” 

Sam met his eyes carefully, the laughter fading from his face. “You okay?” 

Dean snorted, shook his head, and couldn’t seem to stop shaking it. He opened the motel room door. “I don’t know, man.” He remembered the guilty look on Sam’s face. “Are you?” 

Sam’s whole face fell. “Not really.” 

Dean closed and locked the door behind them. He chewed on his next question for a full five seconds before asking it. He still didn’t want to open the “feelings” can of worms, but Sam would want him to ask. _Fuck it._ “Why not?” 

“Because it’s my fault, Dean,” Sam said. “Cas has been missing and crazy and it’s my damn fault. If I’d just been able to handle the crazy--if we’d known that I could _keep_ handling it--then Cas would be _fine_. He’d be here and helping us, not stuck in a--a holy fire _playpen_ because he can’t fucking _think_.” 

Guilt tore at Dean’s insides. He’d been so caught up in his own shit, he hadn’t even thought about Sam’s feelings. Sam wasn’t in love with Cas (at least, Dean really hoped not), but he did love the guy. “This isn’t on you,” he told his brother in what he hoped was a calming voice. “Cas broke the wall, so it was on Cas to fix it. You didn’t ask him to take on the crazy. None of us did. That was his choice.” 

Sam scoffed. “Like you would’ve forgiven him if he didn’t.” 

Dean closed his eyes. Dammit, Sam was probably right. “Look. What’s done is done. Once we deal with these werewolves, we can look for whatever this power source is.” 

“Or whoever,” Sam added. 

“Or whoever.” Dean exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry, man. I’ve been running off with Charlie too much. Should’ve been there for you.” 

Sam waved his apology away. “No, I’ve been fine.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“You’ve been worse.” 

Dean froze. Sam clearly regretted the words as soon as he said them. “I mean, before Charlie. Losing Cas hit you harder than it hit me.”

“He broke your head.” 

“That’s different from losing somebody,” Sam said. “And then we lost Charlie, and you were always closer with her than I was. And you haven’t been able to drive Baby around.” 

Dean chuckled at that. “Yeah, that’s been the worst part of this.” 

Sam laughed. The guilty look faded. 

Dean put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We’re gonna fix him. We’re gonna deal with these wolves, and then we’re gonna fix Cas. And none of this is your fault.”

Sam scoffed. “C’mon, Dean. Some of it is.” 

“Cas made his choice,” Dean said stubbornly. “Not your fault.” 

Sam sighed. “Fine.” He stood and started changing back into flannel and jeans. “You know, I think I’d feel better if you told me whatever it is you and Charlie have been talking about.” 

“Shut up.”

“You seem...I don’t know. Lighter. Even with the Murphy’s law shit storm we’ve been dealing with.” He shrugged. “Whatever it is, I’m glad it’s helping.” He started putting silver bullets in his gun. “Interesting that Charlie came back as a Cupid, though.” 

Dean, who had been doing the same, promptly dropped the bullets. His heart started racing. _I’m not ready for this. Not now._ “Uh huh. Real interesting.” 

“And she’s been bugging you a lot.” 

He glanced up at Sam after grabbing the bullets. “Shut up.” 

Sam’s shit-eating grin grew. “Just saying. And just gonna add--in case you forgot--” His grin faded into something more sincere. “You’re my brother. I’ve got your back. No matter what.” 

A massive weight Dean hadn’t even known he was carrying lifted from his chest. Sam knew. Hell, Sam had known probably longer than _he’d_ known. And he had his back anyway. 

Sam didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. And Dean, who was stunned speechless, just nodded. After he’d made sure his gun was all set with silver bullets, he managed, “Thanks, man.” 

Sam smiled and clapped him on the back. “Come on. Let’s kill something that’s actually killable.” 

Additional relief rushed through Dean as he chuckled. Sam would let him talk more when he was ready. He wasn’t asking him to say anything else--yet. “Yeah. Here’s hoping this’ll be a milk run.” 

It wasn’t a milk run. 

Dean knew there was something different about this forest the second they left the parking lot and started walking on a trail. It was...older. Untamed. Dean had the distinct feeling that the world could--and had--gone through countless changes and this forest had stayed the same. 

“Do you feel that?” Sam asked.

“Feel what?” 

“I don’t know what to call it,” Sam said. “Almost like we’re being watched.” 

So _that’s_ what was causing the chill up his spine. “Almost like these trees wouldn’t give a shit if the rest of the world burned?” Dean asked. Sam nodded. “Yeah. I feel it too.” Dean glanced up at the moon, hoping its light would be enough for a while. At least until they found the werewolves. “Let’s gank these guys and get out of here, yeah?” 

Sam nodded. They crept through the woods in silence for several minutes. Something in the back of Dean’s mind made him think of horror movies. People could get killed here and no one would know. 

_Shut it,_ he told himself. _Get the job done and go_. 

They heard snarling. Dean and Sam ducked behind some trees, hoping to get cover and a safe view to shoot the werewolves. They reached a spot where the werewolves were in profile. But before they could shoot, they heard a voice. A sharp and clear female voice. “For the last time, you have two choices. Do you want a messy death or a clean one?” 

“Neither,” said a low male voice. “How about we just take your heart and go?”

The woman sighed. “Fine then.” She started speaking in a language Dean didn’t recognize. He heard a soft boom and a splat as the werewolf exploded. Sam looked at him wide-eyed. Whoever this woman was, they didn’t want to mess with her. 

“Okay, kid,” she said. “Are you gonna run back to your pack and tell them to stay the hell away from my woods? Or do I have to kill you, too?” 

“Option one,” said a terrified male voice--the other werewolf.

“One last thing,” said the woman. “You’re going to stop eating human hearts. You and the rest of your pack. Or I will hunt you down and kill you. Understand?” 

The werewolf nodded, shaking. 

“Go.” 

He scampered off. Sam gave his brother a wide-eyed, slightly scared look. “Should we go?” he mouthed. 

Dean nodded. As they tried to sneak away, the woman called out to them. “Come on out, boys.” They froze. _Shit,_ Dean thought. _Shit shit shit._ His heart picked up speed.

“I don’t bite. I promise.” Her voice was warmer. “Just put those guns away, and we can talk.” 

Sam shook his head at Dean, who nodded. There was no way in hell they’d face whoever this lady was unarmed. They crept out from behind the trees and into the clearing, avoiding the werewolf guts. 

Dean didn’t know who or what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t her. 

The witch (at least, he assumed she was a witch) was at least a foot shorter than Sam. Something about her made Dean wonder if she was part tree spirit, part moonbeam, or a little bit of both. She was almost glowing in the moonlight. Her clothes made Dean think of that crazy professor in that friggin’ Harry Potter movie Sam had made him watch--the fortune telling lady. Her long and wildly wavy dark hair was mostly pulled out of her face. She cocked her head at them, a warm smile spreading across her face. 

“Hello, boys. Good to finally meet you.” 

“Uh, likewise,” Sam said. He gave Dean a look that clearly said, _I think_. 

Her smile faded. “You can put the guns away. Really.” 

“With all due respect, lady, you could kill us with a couple words,” Dean said. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I don’t hurt people--any living beings, really--unless I have to.” When they didn’t move, she added, “I won’t hurt you.” It sounded like a promise. She stood a little taller and suddenly seemed oddly regal, even with blood and guts all over her clothes. “You need help, right?” 

“Uh…” Sam said. Dean had to bite back a laugh. Sam was rarely at a loss for words. 

A warm half-smile came back. “For that crazy angel you’re trying to fix?” 

Dean’s eyebrows and jaw moved in opposite directions. “How…”

She waved a hand. “Come on. I’ve got tea and coffee in the cabin, and I need to get out of this mess.” She gestured to her outfit. When they didn’t move or drop their guns, she sighed. “You’re Sam and Dean Winchester. You’re the reason the apocalypse failed.” Her deep green eyes, which had been bright and calculating, softened. “I have every reason to help you and none at all to harm you.” She looked at each of them in turn. “Please.” 

Sam put away his gun. Dean, reluctantly, did the same. “How did you know?” he asked since Sam still seemed dumbstruck. 

She started walking, leading the way deeper into the woods. “I’ve been around awhile. I figured out how to tune into the more powerful magical and holy forces in this world a long time ago. I felt every seal break.” She shrugged. “I managed to keep a few closed, but the odds were against us. I knew when the last one broke, when Lucifer was released.” 

“Sorry about that,” Sam muttered. 

She turned around and smiled softly. “It’s okay.” She turned around and kept walking. Dean noticed a faint blush on his brother’s cheeks and barely managed not to laugh. Sam wasn’t dumbstruck--he was starstruck. 

“I put two and two together when the epic battle didn’t happen and the cage closed up again,” the witch continued. “The only ones who could have stopped that were the two of you--the ones meant to be the vessels of Michael and Lucifer.” 

“Who told you that?” Dean said. “I mean, I get you knowing about the forces and all, but that’s pretty damn specific.” 

“Gabriel,” she said. “We’ve known each other a long time.” The air shimmered around them before they walked into a clearing with a modest-looking wooden cabin. “Come on in,” she said. When they hesitated, she added, “If I wanted to kill you, I would have already.” 

Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged. “She has a point.” 

“If we die, I’m haunting your ass,” Dean muttered under his breath. But he walked in anyway. 


	12. Chapter 12

The cabin didn’t look like an evil witch’s lair. Dean had to admit that it was almost cozy. A little eclectic, maybe, but warm. Homey. There were shelves on most of the walls that were filled with either books, crystals, or spell ingredients. Nothing unusual for a witch. 

“How’s a hot toddy sound?” she asked. “I imagine this is a lot for you to take in. And no, I’m not trying to get you drunk,” she said as Dean opened his mouth to respond. He promptly closed it. 

“Sounds great,” Sam said. “Thank you.” 

She smiled and filled up the kettle, setting it on the stove. “I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything. This stuff’s more dangerous than it looks.” She walked just out of their sight, and the boys heard a door close.

Dean pulled out his phone. “I’m texting Bobby. If we’re gone for days, someone should know.” 

“Do you even have a signal?” Sam asked. 

Dean checked. “No. Dammit.” 

“Send a prayer to Charlie?”

“Might as well.” Dean closed his eyes and frowned, hoping the witch didn’t have some weird spells blocking angels or something. _Hey, kid. Some witch got to the wolves before we could. She says she can help with Cas._

The woman came back out in clean clothes. “I’m Elle, by the way.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Dean and Sam muttered in turn. 

“Are you the one who’s been protecting the forest?” Sam asked. 

She nodded. 

“You’re the power source we keep hearing about? The being that’s kept this place safe for ages?” Dean asked, more than a little surprised. This tiny thing? _She_ was what--who, apparently--they’d been looking for? 

She gave him an impish half-smile. “I’m tougher than I look.” The kettle whistled, and she walked to the stove. Something was weirdly familiar about her, but Dean couldn’t place it. “I also dealt with your doppelgangers and the fairies.” She went to the cupboard and got some whiskey. “You’re welcome.” 

“ _How_?” Sam asked. 

She shrugged, facing away from them. “I have my ways.”

Dean shot Sam a worried look. He didn’t trust this chick. 

Based on Sam’s expression, he didn’t either. “Let me help you with those,” he said, standing. 

_Charlie?_ Dean thought. 

“I’m not going to poison you, Sam. I promise. I’m here to help,” Elle said. “What kind of tea would you like?”

Charlie’s voice popped into Dean’s head almost immediately, blocking out Sam’s answer to Elle. _Want me to bring your angel or leave him here with Bobby?_

Dean instantly relaxed. _Think all three of you could come? Not sure what we’re dealing with here._

“We’ve had bad luck with witches,” Sam said apologetically. 

_Does Bobby have the address?_ asked Charlie.

_Yep._

“I get it,” said Elle. “So have I. But I’m not exactly a normal witch.” 

There was a pause on Charlie’s end. _See you soon._

Sam brought over a steaming cup of tea. Dean frowned at it. “Just try it, Dean,” Sam said. 

He smelled it first. “Holy shit. It’s like--”

“Baked apples with honey and whiskey?” Elle smiled. “Yeah. Sam said apple tea would be right up your alley.” 

“Thanks,” Dean said honestly, feeling more than a little sheepish. 

“I’m sure this feels pretty Hansel-and-Gretel to you boys, but I promise I’m here to help.”

“And what’s that help going to cost us?” Dean asked. 

She just studied him. Her green eyes were still kind but bright and fierce. Dean had a feeling there was an incredibly sharp mind behind them. “Depends on how broken your angel is.” 

“Pretty messed up,” Sam said. 

“What happened to him, exactly?” Elle curled up in a chair and sipped her hot toddy. The gold flecks in her eyes sparkled in the firelight.

“He took on Sam’s crazy,” Dean explained. 

Elle frowned. 

“Side effects of being stuck in the cage with Lucifer and Michael for over a year,” Sam clarified. 

Elle’s eyebrows went up. “Over a year in our time or hell time?” 

“Our time,” Sam said. 

Elle’s eyebrows dropped as a distant, pained look filled her eyes. Dean recognized it. He’d seen that look in the mirror--the shadow that crossed his face when he remembered his time in hell. “That’s…” She glanced up at Sam. “How did you manage it?” 

“Death put up a wall in his head,” Dean said. “Cas broke it.” 

“Ah.” Understanding crossed Elle’s face as she nodded. “So Cas made the mess and cleaned it up.” 

“Exactly,” Sam told her.

“Cas is Castiel, right?” Sam and Dean looked at each other in surprise before nodding. She smiled. “He’s a good one. Bit of an odd duck, but a really, really good one.” 

“You know him?” Dean asked. Would this chick ever stop surprising him? 

“I knew him, back before the almost apocalypse.” 

“Seems like you know a lot of people,” Sam noted, drinking his hot toddy. 

“You know how some people are stars in shows, some are company members or side characters, and others are in the background? They have their part, but if they do it well, no one notices them?” Sam and Dean nodded. Elle smiled. “That’s my favorite role.” 

“Not a spotlight person?” Sam asked. 

She shrugged. “I’ve found the stage crew tends to live longer and do more good over time than the stars.” 

Dean snorted. “Did you read our books or something?” 

Her eyes sparkled. “Didn’t have to. Caught up with Gabe a while back.” She shook her head. “He really did not need to kill you that many times, Dean. But he can be a little...extra. And may all the gods help you if you try to change his mind.” 

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” 

Elle cocked her head. “You already called Charlie, didn’t you?” 

Dean froze but feigned innocence. “Charlie?” 

Elle rolled her eyes. “I can tell when angels are in the woods.” She exhaled in a rush. “And _holy shit_. You weren’t kidding about Cas’ crazy. I can feel it from here.” 

Dean’s heart went into overdrive. _Cas is here_.

“Would you mind getting them? I have to drop the wards, or they’ll never find this place.” 

“Will we be able to find our way back?” Sam asked. 

“I’ll send a search party if you’re not here in an hour,” Elle told them. She waved towards the door. “Go on.” 

They left, feeling more than a little bewildered. 

“So, our super intense power source is a tiny witch?” Dean asked once they were out of earshot. 

“Guess so,” Sam said. 

“A _gorgeous_ tiny witch?” Dean said, grinning. 

Sam glanced at Dean and rolled his eyes at his brother’s expression. “Shut up.” 

“She’s ancient, dude. Has to be. And she could kill you.” 

“I can think of someone else we know like that,” Sam said. When Dean didn’t respond, he added, “Someone whose melon is cracked.” 

Dean’s heart went into overdrive again. _Cas._ He’d just figured out that he was definitely capable of falling in love with guys--and was in love with that specific guy. How the _hell_ was he going to act around him? 

“Take a breath, Dean,” Sam said. 

“Huh?” Dean asked. 

Sam stopped him and put his hands on his shoulders. “Take a breath, dude. I can hear how fast you’re breathing.” 

Dean glared at him. “ _How_?” 

“It’s really quiet out here,” Sam explained. His worried eyes searched Dean’s face, his brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen you like this unless we’re fighting, man. Would talking about it help?” 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, man.” 

“Can I talk then?” Sam asked, letting go of Dean’s shoulders. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” This was comfortable. Listening to Sammy vent and talk about feelings was normal. 

“I’m nervous,” Sam said. “And worried. What’s Elle’s price gonna be? Can she even fix Cas? Is he too far gone?” 

Dean’s breath hitched in his chest, the air he took in not quite filling his lungs. “He can’t be too far gone,” he managed. “He just can’t be.” He couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. “He can’t be gone. Not again.”

“Shit, dude,” Sam said, stopping Dean again. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make it worse, I swear.” 

Dean shook his head, holding onto a tree for support. “I know, Sammy. I know. Not your fault.” 

Sam’s hazel eyes studied Dean carefully. “Does it have something to do with whatever you’re not telling me?” 

Dean sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face. “It has to do with Cas. And Charlie.”

“And whatever you’ve been talking about that you won’t tell me?” Sam asked softly. 

Dean took a deep breath, feeling a slight tingling up his arm. The tree. He felt stronger. “We should keep going.” He pulled away and kept walking.

Hurt flashed across Sam’s face, quick and sharp and clear. “Yeah. Okay.” He picked up Dean’s pace, walking with his big brother.

“Dammit, Sammy, you don’t know how hard this is,” Dean snapped. 

“I would if you just fucking told me,” Sam grumbled. 

Dean bit back another snippy remark. The next few sentences came out before he had time to think, process, or filter them. “Fine. You really want to know? Fine. I’m bisexual, and I’m in love with Cas.” 

The full impact of his words crashed into him. He suddenly felt weak, as if the wind was knocked out of him. He hadn’t been ready to say all of that, but now it was out there. The weight of his secret, the safety of keeping it, was gone. Holy fucking shit. He braced himself for losing his brother and squeezed his eyes shut. “Are you happy now?” he asked harshly. 

Strong arms wrapped around him instantly, squeezing him so tight it was almost hard to breathe. “Dude, I’m fucking thrilled,” Sam said. 

Relief flooded through Dean. He pulled away. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously,” Sam said, beaming. _He meant it_ , Dean realized. “You’ve finally gotten your head out of your ass.” 

Dean punched him. “Shut up.” But a smile was growing across his face.

“You and Cas have to be the two most oblivious idiots in the universe,” Sam said, walking again. 

“How…” Dean started. But he’d run out of words. He’d already used too many that day.

“It was mostly little things,” Sam said. “The way you look at each other. The way you say Cas’ name. How fucking devastated you’ve been since we thought he died.” 

“Okay. But how…” Dean waved his hand. “You know. The other thing.” 

“You being bi?” Sam asked. Goddammit--how could the kid say that so fucking easily? “Two words, man.” 

“Bullshit,” Dean said. 

Sam gave him a shit-eating grin. “Doctor. Sexy.” 

Dean snorted and burst out laughing. “Well, shit.”

Sam laughed with him. “The real question is why you didn’t figure it out sooner.”

Dean’s heart twisted. “Dad, I think.”

Sam nodded slowly. Nothing else needed to be said. Their dad had been the most heteronormative son of a bitch they’d ever met. He’d always encouraged Dean to be a man--his version of a man. No way in _hell_ would he have accepted his oldest son, his soldier, as a man who liked men. 

“I’m happy for you, Dean,” Sam said. 

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.” 

“And Bobby owes me 20 bucks.” 

Dean started. “What?” 

They heard a familiar low voice close by. “Dammit, Cas, you _have_ to stop wandering off.” 

“There they are,” Sam said. He grinned. “Ready to be the hero? Play Prince Charming?” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” They walked through a particularly thick patch of trees and saw a frazzled Charlie, grumpy Bobby, and happy drunk Cas.

“Dean!” Cas called. He broke away from Charlie. 

“Dean. Thank God,” Charlie said in an exhausted and irritable voice. “You’re gonna want to hold onto him. He has the attention span of a toddler.” 

Cas was fucking beaming at him, and Dean felt whatever parts of him that hadn’t fallen for Cas crash land at the angel’s feet. He was a goner. He was a total goner. 

Cas turned his sun-bright smile to Sam. “Sam!” 

“Hey, buddy,” Sam said, smiling back. “Glad you didn’t end up playing with that holy fire.” 

“I didn’t,” Cas said, his smile dropping into a frown. “I hope the bees are okay.” 

“They were fine without you,” Bobby said in a tone that matched Charlie’s. “Where the hell are we going?” 

“This way,” Sam said, waving and walking towards Elle’s cabin. 

Cas started to run away. Dean lunged and barely managed to reach him. “Easy, tiger. We’re going this way.” 

“Okay.” Cas slipped his fingers through Dean’s, intertwining them. Butterflies took off in Dean’s stomach as his heart pounded out a few extra beats. Cas was holding his hand. They were holding hands. 

And it meant nothing because Cas was _crazy_. 

The butterflies died as quickly as they’d taken flight. Why the fuck was Dean this affected? He’d liked people before. He’d loved people before. 

“Dean? Hello?” Charlie called. 

Cas squeezed his hand, and those damn butterflies started dancing again. “Dean?” he asked quietly. 

“Yeah,” Dean called back to Charlie. 

“Who’s the mystery power source lady?” 

“She’s a witch,” Dean said. “I think.” 

“I dunno,” said Sam. “There was something about her.” 

“Something about her?” Charlie asked in a playful voice. “Tell me more.” 

“Shut up,” Sam said reflexively, but there was no real heat behind it. “She’s powerful. She’s seen a lot of fights and helped out in the background, apparently. She already knew who Dean and me were.” 

“Huh. How’d she know that?” Bobby asked. 

Sam’s explanation--and most of the conversation between him, Charlie, and Bobby--became background noise in Dean’s head. He was distracted by the feeling of Cas’ hand in his. Cas’ hand was much bigger and rougher than he’d expected. But it was warm and solid and holding onto his with absolutely no hesitation. 

Shit. How much of this would he lose when Cas went back to normal? 

“You said Elle’s her name?” Charlie asked. 

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed. “Why?” 

“It sounds familiar,” she said in a distracted voice. “Everything about her sounds familiar, actually. I wonder…” She trailed off. They’d reached the cabin. 

“Time to figure out if she can fix you,” Dean told Cas. 

The angel squeezed his hand and gave him a sad smile. “I have a good feeling about her.” 

“You should.” Elle was standing on her front steps, smiling at them. “Welcome, everyone. Come on in.” Sam walked in first, followed by Bobby and Charlie. 

Dean and Cas walked in as one. 


	13. Chapter 13

Elle’s smile grew, and for a moment Dean forgot that she’d made a werewolf explode not too long ago. “Hiya, Castiel. Charlie. Good to see you again.” 

Charlie’s eyes went wide, and she took a staggering step back. “You.” Bobby and Sam instinctively stepped in front of her. “No, guys, calm down!” she said. “Elle’s the one who helped the angels turn me into a Cupid.” 

Cas, Bobby, Dean, and Sam all turned to Elle, slack-jawed. She dropped her hands. “I said I wanted to help.” Her voice softened. “Do you believe me now?” 

The men nodded. “Sorry ‘bout that,” Bobby said gruffly. “Old habits die hard.” He and Sam stepped away from Charlie. “I’m--”

“Bobby Singer,” Elle finished. “Adoptive dad to these three.” She nodded at Sam, Dean, and Charlie. “Genius, but you hide that under flannel and alcohol.” 

Bobby’s eyebrows went up. “How did you--”

“I keep up with the news,” she said easily. “And with Gabriel.” 

Bobby was speechless. Elle turned her attention to Cas. “Hey there,” she said in a soothing voice. “I heard your head got a little banged up.” 

Cas nodded. “I see things. And words are hard. Listening is hard. Staying still is hard.” 

Dean’s heart broke, and he squeezed Cas’ hand instinctively. Cas squeezed back and leaned into him. 

“I get it,” she told the angel. “Here.” She sat in an armchair by the fire and patted the seat of the chair next to her. “Will you come and sit with me?” 

Cas looked at Dean, those big blue eyes full of questions. 

“It’s okay, buddy,” he said. He squeezed Cas’ hand once more before letting go. Cas slowly, hesitantly went over.

Elle gave him a warm smile. “I can’t really tell what’s wrong with your mind or how to fix it unless I put my hands on your head. Kind of like this.” She gestured with her own hands, putting them on the top and upper sides of her head. “Is that okay?” 

Cas nodded, although his eyes were filled with trepidation. She knelt in front of him, her expression warm and encouraging. _Maybe there are good witches,_ Dean wondered. Elle put her hands on Cas’ head and closed her eyes. Cas closed his in turn. 

Elle’s hands began to glow red. Her eyebrows squeezed together. Her hands grew brighter and brighter until she bowed her head. The glow faded until her hands were back to normal. She opened her eyes and exhaled heavily. “Holy hell in a handbasket.” Her eyes flicked up to Sam’s. “How long were you dealing with this? Before Cas took it?” 

Sam shrugged. “A few weeks or so.” 

Her eyebrows shot up. “Were you happy drunk, too? Or stuck in a straightjacket?” 

“Neither.” Sam’s gaze intensified a little. “I managed because I had to.” 

“You managed.” 

Sam nodded. Dean had the distinct impression that Elle was trying to detect a lie and Sam was trying to flirt. 

“Damn,” she said eventually. “You’re made of tough stuff, Winchester.” She pursed her lips. “Or maybe you grew into it.” 

“Nature versus nurture?” Sam said, smiling. Dean glanced at Charlie. She winked at him. Yep. Sam was flirting. 

Elle held Sam’s gaze, as if trying to read him. “Something like that.” She turned her attention back to Cas. “And how long has Cas been carrying this?” 

“Couple of days? Maybe a week or two?” Dean answered. 

“A lot has happened really quickly,” Charlie explained. “We lost track of time.” 

Elle nodded, looking thoughtful. “I think I have something that could help.” 

“Really?” Dean asked. He couldn’t even hide the mixture of hope and fear in his voice. “Could it take all of it?” 

“Maybe,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She gave Cas’ shoulder a reassuring squeeze before walking away. 

“Well,” Bobby said. “This is not what I expected.” 

Sam snorted. “Me neither. Don’t think any of us expected her.” He stared into space. “I mean, she made a werewolf explode tonight.” 

Bobby’s eyebrows shot up. “Damn. How?” 

“She was speaking some weird language. I don’t know it.” Sam frowned lightly. “But it kind of sounded like whatever that leprechaun was saying a few years ago.” 

“Good memory,” Charlie said. 

“It was pretty memorable,” Dean said. He looked at Sam in alarm. “You don’t think--”

Elle came back carrying an empty hourglass. At least, Dean assumed it was empty. The glass was pitch black. When the firelight hit it, he could see some runes etched into the sides. “What’s that?” he asked. 

“A mora miserium,” she said. “It can hold negative energies.” 

“That can handle over a hundred years in hell?” Sam asked. 

She nodded. “I’ll have to charge it first and put a couple binding spells on it after, but yes. It can handle it.” 

“What’s the catch?” Bobby asked. 

“If it breaks, all of that energy will go right back into Cas _and_ Sam. So I’ll have to hide it and seal it away.” 

“We can do that,” Dean said. He felt suddenly protective. Cas and Sam were his people. He wanted to protect them. 

“With all due respect,” Elle shook her head. “No, Dean. You can’t. Do you have a space that’s prepared to keep objects sealed away and prevent intruders from finding it for millennia?” Her eyes drifted to each of them in turn. 

They shook their heads. “I had a panic room,” Bobby said. 

Elle’s lips turned up in a half smile. “And I’m sure it was brilliant. But I can handle this.” 

“What’s it gonna cost us?” Dean asked. 

Elle’s eyes grew sad. “You boys saved the world and paid the price. You’ve spent your whole lives saving people and never getting paid for it.” She tilted her head and studied him carefully. “Consider this a thank you from everyone who doesn’t know they owe you.” 

Everyone except for Dean and Cas looked shocked. Dean just stared at her. “No. I don’t buy it. No such thing as a free lunch.” 

Her deep green eyes stared into his. Dean had a sinking suspicion she was staring into his soul. “You’ve already paid for it, Dean. A hundred times over.” When he didn’t break eye contact, she sighed. “If you’re that uncomfortable with it, then fine. You’ll owe me a favor.” 

“Each of us?” Sam asked. 

“The five of you as a group,” she said. “One favor of my choosing.” 

Dread filled Dean’s stomach. 

“I promise it won’t be anything you’ll be opposed to. Or anything that would put you in danger we can’t handle.” 

“We?” Sam asked. 

She smiled slyly. “I can take care of myself.” 

“Right. They told me,” Bobby said. “And how did you do that, exactly?” 

Her eyes flashed with...something. Power? Dean couldn’t quite read it. “We’re running out of time,” she said. “I need to charge this, which means you three--” she waved at Sam, Bobby, and Dean--”need to go.” 

“No,” Dean said, every damn instinct rebelling. “I’m staying.” 

“You’ll explode,” she said simply. “There’s too much power in this process for humans to be around without exploding. Or at least having your eyes burned out.” When Dean’s stubborn expresion stayed, she added, “It shouldn’t take more than an hour.” 

“Go,” Charlie said gently. “I’ve got him.” 

Cas smiled up at Dean. “It’s okay, Dean. She won’t hurt me.” 

“No offense, buddy, but you’re not the best judge of character right now.” 

Elle rolled her eyes. “The sooner you boys get out of here, the sooner you’ll get your Cas back.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I’m impressed that you’re already halfway there, with the whole memory loss bit. How’d you pull that off?” 

“Not sure,” Sam admitted. “Cas healed Dean’s leg, and then his memory came back.” 

Elle’s eyes lit up, and she beamed. “Thought so.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked. 

“I’ll give you boys a minute,” she said, completely ignoring him. “Gotta get a few other things.” She left them again. 

Dean knelt in front of Cas’ chair, putting himself on eye level with the angel. “We’re gonna go, okay, buddy? But we’ll be back as soon as we can.” 

“I know, Dean,” Cas said, that too-easy smile still on his face. “I trust you. And I trust Elle. We’ll be fine.” 

The tension in Dean’s chest eased for a heartbeat. “How? How do you trust us?” 

Cas’ hand rose a few inches, then fell. “I...I just do. I know you’d never hurt me if you could help it. And neither would Elle.” Some of Dean’s hesitation must have stayed on his face, because Cas added, “Trust me,” in a low and earnest tone. 

And goddammit, Dean gave in. He trusted Cas. Even with everything they’d been through, even with the lies, he trusted him. So he slowly nodded. “Okay.” Their eyes caught, and Dean’s heart jumped into his throat. This was a moment. He could feel it, could feel the tenderness and tension and pull. The desire to kiss Cas came out of nowhere and exploded inside of him. And Cas’ expression was so open, so soft. If Dean just moved his head a little to the right, if he just leaned a little bit forward--

“It’s time,” Elle said. Dean fought the instinct to jump back as the moment broke and the rest of the world came back into focus. She put one hand gently on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed. “He’ll be alright.” 

Dean nodded and cleared his throat, trying desperately to get some semblance of composure back. “Okay.” Bobby and Sam were waiting by the door. He walked over to them before glancing back at Charlie and Cas one last time. “See you soon.” 

Charlie blew a kiss at him. Cas’ eyes were so fucking soft. Elle gave him a tiny nod. _It’s okay. You can go,_ her eyes seemed to say. Dean gave them a half sort of wave and walked out, closing the door behind him. 


	14. Chapter 14

Bobby and Sam were standing about a hundred yards from Elle’s cabin. “Think this is far enough away?” Dean asked as he joined them. 

Bobby shrugged. “I wanna keep an eye on them. If everything goes well, then great. If it goes south or sideways...at least we’ll be here to help.” 

Dean nodded, trying to not think about how this could go sideways. “It has to work. It has to.” 

“It should,” Sam said. “If Elle’s done everything she says she did--and we don’t have a reason to think she’s lying--then it should work.” 

“Look, Sammy, just because you’re too caught up in her face to notice her words--” “Shut up, you idjits,” Bobby snapped. “There’s no way she can’t hear you.” 

Dean’s face flushed, as did Sam’s. Sam glared at his brother. Dean just started pacing. 

“You wanna tell us why you’re so antsy? Share with the class?” Bobby asked. 

“No.” 

Sam snorted and shook his head.

Bobby threw up his hands in surrender. “Fine, then.” His eyes became laser-focused on the house. “Wonder what she is.” 

“A goddess, maybe?” Sam asked. Before Dean could make a snide remark, he added, “Think about it. What other creature is powerful enough to make something explode?” 

“Angels?” Bobby asked. 

“She referred to herself as a witch,” Dean jumped in. “At least, she talked about spells and stuff.” 

“And did you see the stuff in her house?” Sam added. “Crystals. Herbs.”

“Books on folklore in several different languages,” Bobby said. “She could be a goddess posing as a witch.” 

“Are there any goddesses who do things for free? Or for a random favor?” Sam asked. 

Bobby chuckled darkly. “None that I know of.” His brow furrowed under his hat. “That sounds more like a fairy deal kind of arrangement.” 

“She doesn’t look like a fairy,” Dean grumbled. His stress level was rising higher and higher, like water boiling in a pot and about to start spilling over the sides. 

“Could she be a leprechaun?” Sam asked.

“Doubt it,” Bobby said. 

“Does it matter?” Dean demanded, no longer pacing and instead holding his arms out wide for emphasis. “If she can help, and if she helped Charlie, and if she closed some of the seals that kept the cage shut, does it matter?” 

Bobby’s eyebrows flew up. “She closed some of the seals? On her own?” 

“Didn’t say if she had a buddy or if it was a solo gig,” Sam said.

Bobby paused, thinking. “Then I’d say she’s incredibly dangerous, whatever and whoever she is. So let’s stay on her good side.” The boys nodded. Dean resumed his pacing. Thinking about what Elle was or wasn’t only made him worry about Cas even more. 

A dull red glow came through the windows of the cabin. Dean didn’t realize he was starting to run towards it until he felt Sam holding him back. “We have to stay here,” he reminded him. But Dean could see the apology in his eyes. 

Less than a minute later (though it felt like an hour), Charlie stuck her head out the door and waved for them to come closer. Dean took off, Sam and Bobby right by him. Charlie was standing in front of the door, grinning. 

Dean didn’t even have words. He let his emotions show through his eyes: fear and hope warring together equally. 

“Well?” Sam asked in a tight voice. 

“He’s fine. He’s back to normal. Which means,” she added, putting one hand on Dean’s arm, “he’s a lot less expressive than usual. And he’s weak. So, you know. Don’t tackle him or anything.” 

“Open the damn door already,” Dean almost growled. 

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” She opened the door, and Dean rushed in. 

Cas and Elle were sitting by the fire, their heads in their hands. If their faces were anything to judge by, they were both basically suffering from _terrible_ hangovers. 

For the first time in his life, fear took over Dean. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. Before Cas went crazy, they were not in a good place. If Cas was back to normal, what did that mean for them? 

“Cas?” Sam asked. 

The angel raised his head. Dean exhaled sharply. Cas was exhausted, but the too-big smile was gone. The heavy weight of millennia of fighting and the icy intensity were back in his eyes. 

It was Cas. It was really, really Cas. 

“Sam,” Cas said, standing unsteadily. 

Before anyone could do anything, Sam pulled Cas into a bear hug. 

“It really worked?” Bobby asked. 

Elle nodded, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “I might have a headache that’ll last way too long, but yeah, it really worked.” 

Sam released Cas and turned his attention to Elle. “Thank you.” 

She smiled wearily. “Happy to help. The headache will fade, anyway.” 

Cas hesitated in front of Bobby. “C’mere, you idjit,” Bobby said, hugging the angel quickly but fiercely. “Good to have you back.” 

“And he’ll stay back?” Dean asked Elle. 

She nodded, then grimaced and switched to a thumbs up. “As long as that thing--” she jerked her thumb to the hourglass thingamajig, “--doesn’t break or fall into the wrong hands, yeah, he’ll stay back.” She held up her hand to stop Dean’s next comment. Or threat. Dean hadn’t decided what would come first. “I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t.” She met Dean’s eyes, and he saw something new in hers. Power. Raw, fierce, more intense than he could describe, _power_. “Is that clear?” 

Dean nodded. “Crystal.” 

“Dean.” 

Dean’s head whipped around to...Cas. Cas, with his memory back. Cas, whose eyes were significantly harder to read than when he’d been crazy. But Dean knew him well--knew him well enough to see the traces of hesitation, worry, and fear in them. Before Cas could put any of that into words, Dean took the few remaining steps between them and hugged Cas--probably more fiercely than was really necessary. 

Dean felt the angel tense in surprise before he relaxed just a hair and pulled Dean closer. And something clicked in Dean’s chest, like a piece of old armor being cast off. Cas was scared. Cas was scared that Dean would...what? Reject him somehow? Fat chance of that happening since he was hopelessly in love with the--

 _Shit._ How long had they been hugging?Dean abruptly let Cas go and cleared his throat. “Glad to have you back, man.” 

Cas frowned and tilted his head at Dean. “Aren’t you still angry with me?” 

Dean saw Sam out of the corner of his eye, biting his lip as he tried not to laugh. “We’ll get to that later.” He clapped a hand on the angel’s strong shoulder. “Let’s get home first.” 

“Can we help with that?” Sam asked Elle, gesturing at the hourglass. 

She shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I can take it from here.” She walked over to Cas. “Take care of yourself, okay?” She gave him a hug, and Dean watched as Cas’ arms wrapped around her tiny frame. 

Cas squeezed her before letting her go. “You too. I--we--can’t thank you enough.” 

She shrugged, a slightly impish smile curling her lips up at the corners. “You already have. And these boys owe me a favor now, anyways.” 

And standing there, talking about favors with that smile, Dean knew what was so damn familiar about her. She reminded him of the fairies that had captured him years ago. But that didn’t make any sense. She was as tall as most human women. And yet...there was undoubtedly something fairy-like about her. It was in her smile, her eyes, her cheekbones. He wanted to ask her about the fairies, but before he could speak, Bobby jumped in. 

“We should go. Let you deal with that thing before it explodes.” He gestured to the hourglass. 

“And you should rest,” she told them. “Cas is tired, too.” 

Dean looked at Cas and saw it: deep, deep fatigue in the soft lines on his face and in his eyes. Dean took Cas’ arm over his shoulders, and Cas smiled wearily in thanks. “Thank you, Elle,” the angel told her.

“Happy to help. Really.” 

“Come on, buddy,” Dean said to Cas. “Let’s go.” They started walking towards the door. Bobby and Charlie said their goodbyes. 

“Be careful,” she told Bobby. She winked at Charlie. “Be good.” 

“Eh. Good is overrated,” Charlie said. She hugged Elle goodbye anyway. 

Dean watched Elle look up at Sam, who had been lingering at the back of the group. Knowing his brother wanted to shoot his shot, Dean said, “Let’s go, team.” He walked a little more quickly towards the door and shot Charlie a look when she lagged behind. When everyone except for Sam was outside, Charlie said, “What was that for?”

“You couldn’t see it?” Dean asked. 

“Might need to get your Cupid glasses checked,” Bobby commented. 

Charlie’s eyes lit up. She whistled. “Hot damn. Sammy’s got his work cut out for him.” 

Sam walked out the door then, alarm spreading across his face as he met three sets of expectant eyes. “What?” 

“Nothing,” Dean said. 

“I just figured she’d need a phone number. If she’s gonna call in that favor.” 

Dean’s grin stretched across his face as his heart grew. He hadn’t seen Sam this excited about someone in a while--probably since Madison. “Uh huh.” 

“Shut up,” Sam snapped. “Let’s go. Charlie, Bobby, where did you park?” 

“We didn’t,” Bobby said. “Flew here.” 

“Can you fly back?” Dean asked. 

Charlie looked up. “Uh, nope. Sorry guys. I’m being summoned.” She gave them a wave that was almost a salute. “I’ll be back soon. Probably.” And with a rush of wings, she was gone. 

“Guess we’re all cramming in the car together,” Bobby said. 

“There’s plenty of room,” Dean said.

“Cas, can you walk?” Sam asked. 

The angel nodded, still leaning heavily on Dean. “Yes.” He untangled himself from Dean’s arms and shoulders. “Thank you, Dean.” 

“Uh, yeah. No problem,” Dean said, suddenly feeling cold without Cas’ solid, warm weight pressed against his side. He intentionally avoided Sam’s eyes and the knowing look he _knew_ was on his little brother’s face. They walked back quietly, each lost in their own thoughts and the sounds of the woods at night. 

Bobby insisted on driving them back. “You boys have been running on empty for days,” he reminded Dean. “Rest.” 

“I call shotgun,” Sam said. Dean glared at him. The idjit was intentionally giving Cas and Dean the backseat. What the hell was he doing? Not like anything would or could happen, anyway. Not with Bobby and Sam in the car. 

Bobby fiddled with the radio station. “Driver picks the music.” 

“Shotgun shuts his cakehole,” Dean and Sam said as one. “We know,” Sam reminded him. 

“What a strange saying,” Cas said quietly. 

Dean focused on the angel, whose head was lying against the window. “You just rest, okay? Here.” He balled up his jacket and handed it to Cas. “For a pillow,” he explained when his gesture was met with confusion. 

Cas frowned but nodded, putting the jacket between his head and the window. “Thank you, Dean.” 

Dean’s heart melted. God, he was a goner. This was mortifying. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes before he could say or do anything else that would make Sam tease him later. Anything that anyone could think of as sappy. 

“Dean. Dean?” Cas’ low, gravelly voice brought Dean out of a vague, fuzzy stress dream. 

“Huh?” 

“We’re at the cabin,” Cas told him. His blue eyes almost sparkled in the moonlight. 

Dean groaned, nodded, and got out of the car.

“I say we all get some shut-eye and deal with the rest of the world tomorrow,” Bobby said as they walked inside. “The Leviathans have been pretty quiet since you boys busted them in Oregon.”

“No, we can keep going,” said Sam with a massive yawn. “Just let me make some coffee.” 

“No,” Bobby said firmly. “We all need some shut-eye. See you boys in the morning.” 

“Good night,” Sam and Dean called. They started moving towards the stairs. Cas just stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Should I go?” he asked. 

Dean frowned, looking at Sam before turning back to Cas. “No, Cas,” Sam said gently. “Why should you go?” 

Cas just looked at Dean, a whole mess of emotions crossing his face and dancing in his eyes. _Oh._ Cas was worried about whether Dean had forgiven him or not. His heart broke. “Dammit, Cas,” he said, walking back downstairs to the angel until they were close enough to touch. “You should stay.” Dean’s voice got softer without his permission. “I want you to stay.”

Cas’ eyes searched Dean’s. “Are you sure?”

Dean nodded. “Please.” He didn’t know what Cas found in his eyes, but the angel nodded. 

“Okay,” Cas told him. “I’ll stay.” 

Dean nodded, relief flooding through him. He walked towards the stairs again. “G’night, Cas.” 

“Dean?” 

Dean turned his head to look at Cas again. “Can we talk tomorrow?” the angel asked. That damn worry was back in his eyes.

_That_ wasn’t worrisome at all. Dean sighed and nodded, ignoring the nerves that were rapidly spreading from his heart to his fingers and toes. “Yeah. We can talk tomorrow.” 

Cas’ shoulders relaxed. “Good night, Dean.” 

Dean got ready for bed in a nervous haze. _What the hell did Cas want to talk about?_ Surprisingly, his nerves and the events of the day didn’t keep him up. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. 


	15. Chapter 15

Dean woke up slowly. Realizations around the events of the past day or so hit him slowly and pulled him closer to full consciousness, like standing at the edge of the ocean and feeling the pull of the tide. 

_I’m bisexual._

_I’m in love with Cas._

_Sam has known longer than I have, and he’s okay with it._

_Bobby probably also knows._

_Cas is back._

The last thought brought Dean back to full consciousness. Cas was back. Really, truly, fully back. Not around-but-crazy, not around-but-lying-the-whole-damn-time. Cas, the angel he’d known for years, was back. 

Cas, the angel he was _in fucking love with_ , was back. 

Downstairs. 

On the sofa. 

Dean groaned and put his head in his hands. He was not ready to face Cas, not ready to face Sam. Not ready to be around Cas while Sam knew how he felt and Bobby just suspected. No. Absolutely not. He would just stay in bed until...was forever an option? 

“You can do this,” said Charlie’s soft voice. 

Dean peeked out at her, parting his fingers. “Everything go okay with Gabriel?” 

“Yeah.” She perched on the bed next to him, rubbing his back gently. “ _You can do this_.” 

Dean groaned again. “I need coffee.” 

“It’s ready. Downstairs.” 

Dean finally brought his face out of his hands, letting Charlie look at him. He couldn’t say what he was feeling. Hell--he barely knew the words for what he was feeling. This wasn’t him. These nerves, this desire to check and fix his hair? The butterflies that were going ham in his stomach? This wasn’t Dean Winchester. This was chick flick bullshit. 

“Keep in mind,” Charlie said in the same gentle voice, “he knows you. He’s seen you on plenty of early mornings pre-coffee.” 

“But he doesn’t know…” Dean ran out of words, made a fist, and knocked on his chest. 

Charlie gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll feel better after coffee. And breakfast.” 

“Bacon?” 

“ _And_ eggs, _and_ toast,” Charlie said, grinning. She stood and held out her hands. Dean groaned again, but he took them and let her guide him to his feet. 

He grumbled and ran a hand down his face. “Mornings bad.”

She snorted. “You got this.” She ruffled his hair before disappearing in a rush of wings. 

Dean glowered at the door before sighing and opening it. The only way out was through. The only way to wake up was coffee. The only way to get coffee was to go downstairs and face everyone. 

_I am Dean Winchester. I’ve died and come back to life. I went to hell and came back. I can go down these fucking stairs._

“Morning, sunshine,” Bobby told him. “Coffee’s fresh. Eggs are ready.” 

Dean nodded and made a beeline for the coffee. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean jumped a little, even though he knew the greeting was coming. “Hey, Cas.” His voice was still thick with sleep. He tried very hard to focus on the coffee he was pouring and not the butterflies that were still dancing in his stomach, the part of his heart that was singing Cas’ name. When the hell had he turned into a girl on friggin’ prom night? _You are Dean Winchester,_ he told himself. _Act like it._

But with the revelations of the past few days, what the hell did that even mean anymore?

Sam came down the stairs, eyes barely open. He looked as exhausted as Dean felt. “Morning.” 

Bobby and Dean toasted their coffee mugs. 

“Hello, Sam,” Cas said. 

Sam smiled. “Glad you’re still here.” 

“So am I,” Cas said. Dean noticed a worry line between his eyebrows again. What was going through Cas’ head? 

They ate in silence. Bobby and Cas both knew Dean needed at least one cup of coffee to wake up, and based on Sam’s face, he needed it, too. When Dean’s coffee was almost finished, Charlie’s laptop made a bright, happy _ping_ sound. “The hell’s that mean?” he asked, glad to hear that most of the sleep was gone from his voice. 

“Dick Roman’s up to something,” Sam said. “It’s a news alert.” He headed over to the desk. 

“Dick Roman is the head of the Leviathans, right?” Cas asked. 

“Yep,” Bobby confirmed. “Makes our job difficult, but not impossible.” 

“And that job is stopping the Leviathans?” Cas asked. “Or killing them?” 

“I don’t think they’re interested in a peace treaty,” Dean said. “Killing ‘em is our best shot. If we can just figure out _how_ to kill them.” He met Cas’ eyes for the first time that morning. “Did they give you any clues on that while they were setting up camp inside you?” 

Shit, those eyes were _blue_. Dean had been all over the country and seen a lot of beautiful women, but in that moment he would’ve sworn on anything that Cas’ eyes were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. “I’m afraid not,” Cas said. “They were quite guarded. I only heard them trying to control me. Calling my name. Trying to catch me off guard so they could take over.” Cas’ blue eyes became distant, tinged with pain. “Until they did take over.” 

Dean had a sudden, fierce instinct to take Cas’ hand. Stupid. Dumb. But holding Cas’ hand had felt so _right_ the night before, so easy. And the angel was clearly in pain. 

But no. Cas had been crazy and trying to run away. That’s all last night had been. That’s what Dean _had_ to believe. He brought himself back to the present by remembering when the Leviathans had possessed Cas, which brought back other memories. Images. 

“Your trench coat.” Three sets of eyes met Dean’s with confusion. Fighting back a blush, he said, “You talking about them taking over made me think of the reservoir, and…” His throat suddenly felt tight. He cleared it. “I’ve got your coat in Baby’s trunk. Come on.” He stood and walked to the door, Cas close behind. 

Dean tried to convince himself that his heart’s new frantic pace was just because Bobby made the coffee too strong. Or maybe he drank it too fast. It definitely had nothing to do with Cas, who was right behind him. Dean could practically feel the power radiating off of the guy. Jesus, had that always been there? Was it something else? 

_Focus, Winchester._ “Here she is.” Dean took the canvas off of Baby and smiled at her. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Cas frowned and tilted his head at the Impala. “Why is she here? Hidden?” 

“Evil Leviathan dopplegangers, remember?” 

Cas nodded, his eyes lost in thought. “Right. I apologize. The past few weeks have been...hazy.”

“I get it, man.” Dean opened Baby’s trunk and pulled out Cas’ trench coat nervously. He held it out to Cas, who was staring at Dean more intensely than usual. Cas looked down at the coat and ran his hand over it lightly. Dean’s breath caught. This was more than a coat. This was a role, a symbol of who Cas had been before he betrayed the Winchesters. Cas fixed Dean with that intense stare again, for just a heartbeat. Dean knew Cas felt it, too--the significance of the piece of fabric between them. Cas put both hands on the trench coat, and Dean let it go. 

“We should, uh, get back inside,” Dean said, not knowing what to do with his hands now that they were empty. He pulled the canvas back over Baby. 

“Dean.” 

His head snapped up at the pain in Cas’ voice, which was mirrored in the angel’s eyes. Cas could probably read the confusion in Dean’s face. He exhaled heavily and set his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. 

“I’m sure there are many things you want to tell me, Dean.” 

Dean just blinked. 

Cas’ eyebrows went up, accentuating his bright blue eyes. “Go ahead. I’m listening. Tell me how stupid I was.” 

Dean frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. 

“I broke the cardinal rule, Dean.” Cas’ eyes dimmed. His voice, which had always been rough, grew some sharp edges. “I hurt Sam. I know you’re angry with me.” 

Something in Dean’s heart broke. Cas was expecting him to yell, to be absolutely furious. And he had been. He’d gone from livid to hurt to done to numb. But now, with Cas standing in front of him, alive and real and honest and knowing exactly who he was…

Dean just shrugged. “I was angry with you, Cas. I was pissed as hell for a long time.”

Cas’ eyes lit up, just a little, and Dean’s heart picked up speed. “You _were_? You aren’t anymore?” 

Dean struggled to find words for the feelings wrestling in his chest. “No,” he said simply. 

Cas tilted his head. Goddammit, did he have any idea how friggin’ _adorable_ that was? “No?” 

Dean shook his head. “No. You fixed Sam. Hell--you took on the crazy to save him. And you’re here now.” He smiled in spite of everything, smiled to match the wonder in his voice. “You’re back. And you’re helping us clean up your mess.” He shrugged. “You fucked up, yeah. But we’ve all fucked up.” 

“Not like this,” Cas said. His eyes showed a whirlwind of emotions--pain, guilt, regret, fear. “I thought I could handle it--the power, the souls. I thought I could fix things. Instead, I killed half of my own race and unleashed a new, horrible, terrible power on the world.” He shook his head. “You and Sam have enough to deal with already. I just made everything worse.” He met Dean’s eyes, and Dean was shocked at the pleading look in them. Cas was usually so calm, so stoic. Not this time. “How can you possibly forgive me?” 

Dean sighed. “You’re right. You did make a mess of things. You did a whole bunch of stupid shit, and we haven’t figured out how to deal with all of it yet.” Panic swirled in the angel’s eyes. Dean put a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him. “But you’ve apologized. You fixed Sam. You’re back. You’re here. Right?” 

Cas nodded. “Yes. I’m here, and I want to make amends for all of my mistakes.” 

Dean looked into Cas’ eyes. “That’s what matters. We’ll figure this out together.” 

Cas’ eyes were still filled with questions, but now wonder joined them. “You really forgive me, don’t you?” 

Dean took a deep breath, trying desperately to clear his head and not get lost in the closeness of Cas, the look in the angel’s eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.” 

Cas shook his head in wonder even as a massive smile spread across his face. Dean’s heart did a backflip. “How?” 

_I love you._

The words stayed in Dean’s head where they rang, clear as a bell. He cleared his throat, swallowing them down. “You’re family, Cas.” 

The angel’s strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tight and close. “Thank you, Dean,” he mumbled. The words were slightly muffled by Dean’s shoulder. 

For the first time in a very, very long time, Dean let himself be really, truly held. His arms slowly wrapped around Cas, pulling the angel close. _His_ angel. Maybe it was a side effect from going through so damn much so fast. Maybe it was from the stupid heaven dream or the damn heart-to-hearts with Charlie. Maybe it was because Sam and Bobby weren't around and the only one who would ever know about this moment was Cas. Whatever the reason, Dean let Cas hold him. And he held his angel back. 

Eventually, Cas let go. The smile he gave Dean was unbearably soft. It took all of Dean’s self-control not to kiss him. Kissing him would’ve been ridiculous. Reckless. But goddammit, it was there. He could practically feel it in the room, on his lips, in the space between them. All he had to do was lean forward by an inch...two inches...pray that Cas moved with him, and--

“Dean! Cas!” 

Sam’s voice ended the moment, but the tension didn’t quite break. “Coming,” Dean said. The hope of a kiss still lingered on his lips. Damn it all, he could feel it. He stepped away from Cas and started walking towards the cabin. “What’d you find?” As he walked, Dean couldn’t help glancing at Cas. He felt like a friggin’ 14-year-old girl, but his curiosity was eating away at him. Had Cas felt it, too? The moment? 

Those perfect blue eyes flicked up to Dean’s for a moment--flicked up and held for a heartbeat before looking away. Dean’s heart did another backflip. 

Maybe. Maybe Cas felt it, too. 

“Biggerson’s,” Sam said. His eyes were bright and excited. This was a lead--a good, real, concrete lead. He wouldn’t look so damn happy otherwise.

“Biggerson’s?” Dean asked.

“The chain restaurant,” Bobby explained. “They’ve got this turducken thing. It’s supposed to eventually make humans docile, easy to kill.” 

“You mean easy prey?” Dean asked, his eyebrows going up.

“Exactly. Now, this email,” Sam said, spinning the laptop around, “makes it sound like they’ll start actually serving it in restaurants in a month or so.” 

“Which means we need to find out where they’re perfecting the formula,” Dean said, his mind already working. “Any idea how to start on that?” 

Bobby’s phone rang. He shrugged. “Maybe this’ll be our magic answer.” He held the phone to his ear. “Yello.” He stood a little taller. “Jody. Hi. What’s going on?” He left the cabin. 

Sam’s eyebrows were trying to join his hairline. 

“Ten bucks says Bobby’s asking her out,” Dean wagered. 

“Ten bucks says Jody will ask him out first,” Sam said. They shook on it. 

“Jody was here before, right?” Cas asked. “After I got my memory back?” 

“And before your brain turned to mush? Yeah,” Dean said. 

“Thanks for doing that, Cas,” Sam said sincerely. 

Cas frowned at him. “Turning your brain to mush?” 

Sam laughed lightly. Dean bit back a snort. “No, not that. For taking the crazy.” He studied the angel. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Yes I did,” Cas said. “I broke your head, which made fixing it my responsibility.”

Sam opened his mouth to fight back, and Dean knew them well enough to know they could debate this to death. “Just say you’re welcome, Cas,” Dean said begrudgingly. “Sam’s not gonna let it go otherwise.” 

“He’s right,” Sam said, a smug grin growing on his face. He’d won, and he knew it.

“You’re welcome,” Cas said. The words came out awkward, which somehow made them even more endearing. 

Bobby walked back in. “Jody, huh?” Dean asked. “Not Sheriff anymore?” 

“Shut up,” Bobby grumbled. “She’s got wind of a case in her sister’s town. People and bodies disappearing.”

“That’s not necessarily our kind of thing,” Dean reminded him. 

“Bloodless bodies. With holes in their necks,” he said flatly. 

Sam leaned back in his seat. “Vamps.” 

Bobby nodded. “I told her to wait for me before going after ‘em.” 

“You think she’ll listen?” Dean asked, arching an eyebrow. 

Bobby shrugged. “I also told her how to kill ‘em. Just in case.” 

“You want backup?” Sam asked. 

Bobby waved Sam away. “Nah. Should be a milk run. Think it’s just one vamp.”

“Just one? It can’t be that easy, Bobby,” Dean said. 

The older hunter waved him away and started walking up the stairs. “If we’re outnumbered or shit goes south, we’ll call.” 

“Praying will be more efficient,” Cas said. 

“Will you listen to someone other than Dean this time?” Bobby asked, leaning against the stairs. 

Cas nodded. “Yes.” 

“Okay. But make sure these idjits keep their phones on. And charged. And if I’m not back in a couple of days, come and get us.” Bobby disappeared up the stairs.

Sam had a look of intense concentration on his face before going to the fridge. “Huh. Looks like I need to go on an actual milk run.” 

Dean was still tired, but he could put two and two together. He almost ran over to his brother. “Don’t you dare,” he threatened. 

“I’m not third-wheeling anymore. Not since you’ve finally gotten your head out of your ass,” Sam hissed. 

Dean frowned. “Anymore?” 

“I should go,” Cas said. 

Sam closed the fridge door quickly, giving his brother a worried look. 

Dean’s heart twisted in his chest. “Go? Cas, we just got you back.”

“I’m healed,” Cas said simply. “And I have more amends to make. I made a mess of heaven. I should go and fix what I can.” 

“What kind of mess did you make?” Sam asked in a wary voice. 

Cas dropped his eyes. “I was a bit...overzealous as God. Humans and angels suffered similar fates.” His voice ached with remorse. 

Dean shook his head repeatedly. “No. Absolutely not.” 

“Dean, you can’t stop me,” Cas said gently. 

“Cas, _they will kill you_.” Dean instinctively took a step closer. 

“I’m stronger than you think I am, Dean,” Cas said. His eyes snapped up. There was a rebellious glint in them. The intensity charged the space between them, filling it with crackling heat. _Shit,_ Dean thought, suddenly unable to speak or breathe properly. _This is hot_. 

“You promised to help Bobby if he calls,” Sam jumped in. 

“And I will,” Cas said, breaking eye contact with Dean. Miraculously, the heat faded, and Dean could breathe again. “I will come as soon as he calls. Assuming he calls.” 

“You can’t do that if you’re in whatever the hell angels have for prison,” Dean said sharply. 

“I have to atone for my sins, Dean.” 

“There’s gotta be another way.” Dean looked up at his brother, his eyes begging for help. 

“We could call Charlie,” Sam suggested. “See what the other angels think of Cas.”

“Charlie?” Cas asked. 

“The obnoxiously hyper but adorable little redhead who’s been babysitting you.” Dean gave Cas an odd look. Cas and Charlie had worked together when she was alive. _Where’s this coming from?_

Cas nodded. “Yes. I know who she was. But what is she now? I’ve never met another being like her.” 

Sam’s eyes lit up mischievously. Before he could open his mouth and explain, Dean said, “I’ll call her, and she can tell you.” He closed his eyes. _Charlie, I know you’re probably deep in the shit with Gabe, but we need you to answer something. Can ya pop down for a sec?_

“Sup, bitches?” Charlie was leaning against the counter. 

All three of them jumped back a little. “Jesus, kid. Can’t you warn us or something?” Dean said a little more harshly than he meant to. His nerves were frayed, and from the judgy look Charlie gave him, she could tell. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“What do the other angels think of Cas these days?” Sam asked. 

Charlie doubled over with the force of her laughter. When none of the boys joined her, she said, “You’re kidding, right?” 

Cas gave her his characteristic head tilt. 

“Oh, honey,” she said. “Cas, you’re smarter than this.” 

“Well?” Dean asked irritably. 

“Why are you asking?” she said, shaking her head. 

“I want to make amends,” Cas said. “I made a mess, and I want to fix it.” 

Charlie’s eyes softened and grew heavier. “You can’t go back, Cas. They’d kill you on sight.” 

Cas’ eyes lost focus. He looked completely lost, and Dean’s heart broke. 

“Come on,” Charlie said, taking his arm. “Let’s go for a walk.” She pointed at Sam and Dean with her free hand. “Don’t do anything dumb.” 

“We’ll stay put,” Sam assured her. She pulled Cas outside. Dean had clearly lost all self control and any semblance of sanity, because he gave Cas one last, longing look as he and Charlie left. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Cas**

“The woods are good, right?” Charlie asked. 

Cas looked straight ahead. The cabin was tucked away in the middle of the woods. Their options were trees or a dirt road. “The woods are good,” he confirmed. 

She smiled. “Okay.” She started walking, but she let Cas enjoy the quiet first. After the chaos that had been reigning in his head, he appreciated the quiet more than he could say. He needed the sounds of the forest: the wind in the trees, the soft crunch of leaves and sticks under their feet. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked. 

“I don’t understand that reference.” 

Charlie chucked and shook her head. “Of course you don’t. I’m trying to ask what you’re thinking about.” 

Cas noted that she was more serious with him, more muted than she was with Sam and Dean. He appreciated that, too. He was already overwhelmed by the feelings in his own body. He couldn’t handle too much external stimulation. “The trees. How quiet the woods are. How nice it is to feel the quiet, now that the madness is gone.” 

Charlie nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks, buddy.” 

“I believe that would be called an understatement.” 

Charlie laughed, light and free and easy. “I believe you’re right.” She waved at a log lying on the ground. It seemed to be relatively stable. “You okay with sitting for a minute?” 

Cas agreed, and they sat. Charlie took a deep breath, and Cas instinctively did the same. The forest smelled good. “I’ve always loved the woods,” he said. 

“How come?” 

“They last. As long as no one destroys them, they can live for centuries. They’re sentries.” He looked up at them, at the way the canopy dappled the blue sky above them. “They watch and listen and prove that life and time goes on. Empires can rise and fall, but as long as no one interferes with the trees, they remain.” 

Charlie made a thoughtful “hmm” sound. “Kind of like your angel family?” 

Cas felt an odd sort of churning sensation in his stomach. “I have to make amends. I have to apologize and fix the mess I made.” 

“Cas, you can’t go back,” Charlie said gently but firmly. “I’ve been in heaven--recently.” 

“What’s it like?” Cas asked, worry showing in his face and his voice. Odd. He sounded worried. That was new. “What’s heaven like now?” 

Charlie’s face fell. “Well, the ones that are left mostly believe the same things. None of them wanted the apocalypse to come back.” 

“Then why can’t I go back?” 

Charlie’s eyes were deeply apologetic. “Because none of them liked how you handled things, either.” When Cas didn’t say anything, she added, “I think most of the angels that are left believed in you--probably still do, or at least will with time.” She put a hand on his knee. It was such a human gesture of comfort that it almost made Cas jump. But as her hand stayed, he felt the churning sensation in his stomach ease. He needed that comfort, that connection. “But they need time to heal. Maybe they wouldn’t kill you on sight. I don’t know. But I think the best thing you can give them now is space and time.” 

Cas let her words percolate in his mind. “Like I did with Sam and Dean?” 

Charlie scrunched her nose. “That was a little more complicated. But yeah. Kind of. Dean especially needed more time to forgive you. And he got it.” 

“You know him well.” Cas shifted so he was able to see Charlie clearly. She brushed her loose red curls out of her face. “Do you think he has truly forgiven me?” 

“Yeah, buddy. I do.” 

“How do you know?” When Charlie started in surprise, Cas said, “For all the time I’ve spent with Dean, I still don’t always know when he’s being truly sincere.” 

“He’s being sincere this time. Trust me. Dean Winchester can fake a lot of things. But forgiveness?” She shook her head. “That is one thing he doesn’t dish out easily, and it’s one of the few things I’ve never heard him lie about.” 

The tension that had been living in Cas’ chest since he broke Sam’s wall finally lifted. He nodded. “Good.” They sat in silence for another moment, but Cas could tell Charlie was getting antsy. She had more to say. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he told her.

“It’s all good, Cas. Really.” She stretched her arms behind her. “I like what I’m doing now, anyway.” 

“Right,” Cas said, frowning. “Can you remind me how you came back? And what you’re doing now?” 

Her eyes lit up. “I hacked angel radio and pissed them off enough that they made me a Cupid.” 

Cas’ eyes went wide. “That’s possible?” 

“With Elle’s help, yeah. We made it work.” She grinned. “Turns out Gabriel hates that ‘Baby Shark’ song.” She cocked her head. “You don’t remember? I thought you were around when I explained this.” 

Cas shook his head wearily. “Everything since I took in the souls from purgatory is a blur. I only remember fragments, and I’m not sure which fragments are fact or fiction.” 

Charlie sighed and looked down. “I can only imagine. That sounds horrible.” 

“It was worth it. I recovered.” Cas swallowed, internally preparing himself for his next question and the Pandora’s box it would undoubtedly open up. “At least, I think I recovered.” 

A subtle smirk grew on Charlie’s face. “Go on.” 

Cas stared at the forest floor. How could he even begin to explain this? Was Charlie the right person to tell? “You understand the difference between being an angel and a human. Yes?” 

Charlie pursed her lips. “I think so. Can you tell me more?” 

Cas sighed. Another frustratingly human reaction. “Angels are meant to be...robotic, in a way. We have jobs. We get our jobs done. That’s all. Feelings, individual opinions...those are human. Those are distractions.” 

“You sure about that?” Charlie said, raising one eyebrow. “From where I sit, those are good things. They’re what made you stop the apocalypse. They’re what equipped you to save Sam and Dean.” 

“I don’t think the other angels would agree.”

“Since when do you give a shit what the other angels think?” Charlie asked, almost scoffing. 

“I don’t. I just want to know if I’m broken.” Cas stared through the trees. “I changed after I brought Dean back from hell.” He pointedly ignored Charlie, but he saw her lean forward from the corner of his eye. 

“Go on.” 

Cas made an impatient gesture. “What do you want me to say?” 

“Whatever you need to say. I’m a Cupid, buddy. Listening to your feelings is my job.” 

Cas’ eyebrows came together. Charlie was a Cupid. Cupids dealt with very specific emotions. 

“Do you need me to say something first?” 

“Direction would be useful, yes,” Cas told her. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes. There was a strange, bubbling sort of tension in his stomach. Light. Jittery. 

“First of all, I don’t anyone who knows the benefits of emotions and opinions thinks you’re broken. You’re different from the other angels, sure, but that’s not a bad thing. And it makes sense. Most angels don’t get as up close and personal with humans as you have.” 

Cas nodded, letting her words sink in. “I touched Dean’s soul. I held it--held him--as we escaped from hell. I put his body back together.” 

“That’s a very intimate connection.” Charlie pressed her hands into the log below her. “I’ve got a question for you. You don’t have to answer it out loud, but I think answering it will do you a lot of good.” 

Feeling suddenly wary, Cas said, “Okay.” 

Charlie radiated excitement. Cas had a feeling it was taking conscious effort for her to not bounce or stand and pace. “What do you feel when you think about Dean? Or when you’re around him?” 

“I think--”

“Not what you think, Cas. What you _feel_. What happens in your body? What happens in your heart?” 

Cas frowned. “This is important?” 

She nodded emphatically. “Very.” 

Cas took a breath, closed his eyes, and turned his attention inward. Feelings and memories of feelings rose to the surface of his mind, as if they’d been simmering under the surface just waiting to be uncovered. The twitch in his stomach, the tension in his chest. The way his body felt like it was buzzing, vibrating to some unknown frequency. Feelings he didn’t fully understand but had come to associate with Dean. Whatever they were, those feelings...they’d been with him since he first pulled Dean from hell. And they were growing stronger every day.

There were more feelings, too. Feelings that had grown over time. Fear--mind-numbing, paralyzing fear--that threatened to take over whenever Dean was in trouble and Cas couldn’t help. Guilt that nearly swallowed him when he screwed up (which was often). And devastation that felt like a hole in his chest whenever Dean pushed him away. 

Not all of the feelings were painful, he remembered. When Dean hugged him, it felt like the world shrank to the two of them and nothing else mattered. Dean’s boyish grin made Cas feel lighter than he had in centuries. Dean’s voice shook him to his core. He could listen to Dean say his name for the rest of time.

Cas opened his eyes and turned to Charlie. “I know what the feelings are. But I don’t know what they mean.” 

Charlie raised one eyebrow. There was no criticism in her eyes--just a question. “Are you sure about that?”

Cas focused his attention inward again. No. No, he knew _exactly_ what they meant. But the answer terrified him. He questioned its validity, its possibility. 

He was in love with Dean. Which was complicated. And problematic. Could angels even fall in love with humans? To his knowledge, that had never ended well. 

“You know what they mean, don’t you?” he asked Charlie, keeping his eyes closed. 

“I’m here as a Cupid, aren’t I? Never would’ve talked Gabriel into pulling this off otherwise.” 

Cas took a deep breath that was oddly shaky. Okay. He was in love with Dean. In a way, putting words to the mess of feelings inside of him was a relief. One mystery solved. He opened his eyes slowly. “This is a problem, isn’t it?” 

Charlie gave him a “what the fuck” look he’d never seen on her face. “Why would it be a problem?” 

“You’re intelligent. I’m sure you’re thinking of the same reasons I am.” His concerns about human-angel relationships were only half of the problem. To Cas’ knowledge, Dean only loved women. And Dean _loved_ women. 

“You’re unique,” Charlie told him. “And Dean’s unique. And because of that, your relationship is unique.” 

Cas frowned at her. Relationship? “You mean friendship, right?” 

“I said what I said on purpose, Cas.” 

Cas had to close his eyes and take another deep breath to make his next point. “Dean loves women.” 

“So?” 

Cas’ eyes flew open. He searched Charlie’s face for an answer. The only thought he could read there was _Think, dummy._

So he thought. He remembered as much of human history as he could. And a new thought came to his mind. 

There were people who loved men and women. Cas had watched them for millennia. They weren’t as common, and they often had to hide, but they existed. What was the word? Bisexual. He unconsciously took a sharp breath in. _Could Dean be bisexual?_

Charlie beamed. “I think it’s time to head back, don’t you?” She offered a hand to Cas, and he took it. Her hand was so small and soft compared to Dean’s. 

Huh. He remembered what Dean’s hand felt like the night before. So many of his crazy memories were blurry. That one was oddly clear. Charlie let go, and they started walking back. 

“What do I do now?” he asked her softly. 

“I can’t tell you that one, buddy,” she said gently. “But I think you’ll figure it out.” She glanced up at the sky. “I’ll walk you back, but then I’ve gotta go. Will you tell the boys?” 

Cas agreed, and they walked most of the way back in silence. Just as the cabin came into view, Cas asked one more question. “Why a cupid?” 

Charlie spun around and positively beamed at him. “Someone had to take care of the queer relationships. You know--men and men, women and women, enby people with whoever--anything that isn’t a cis hetero man with a cis hetero woman.” Her eyes sparkled. “The other Cupids have no clue what they’re doing.” 

“Queer relationships,” Cas said softly. “Like…” Hope exploded in his chest. “Me and--” 

“Dean, cut it out,” Sam yelled. 

Charlie winked at Cas. “See you later.” She disappeared with a rush of wings. 

Cas took yet another deep breath. He was in love with Dean. Fine. Could _Dean_ really be in love with _him_? Of course, he’d never learn that if he just stood outside the cabin for eternity. It was a rather appealing idea, but it wouldn’t solve anything. So Cas straightened his shoulders and walked inside. 

The Winchesters’ heads snapped up when Cas came inside. “No more Charlie?” Dean asked. He looked more than a little wild. His hair might as well have been electrocuted--it barely resembled its usual shape. His bright green eyes were frantic. 

“She had to leave.” Cas frowned at the table and the papers strewn across it. “What happened here?” 

“ _Someone_ got antsy,” Sam said. His hair was almost messier than Dean’s. His shoulders were tense, and his hazel eyes were flashing with anger and frustration. 

“There’s a lot to do, okay?” Dean said defensively. “There’s a lot to do, and we’re running out of time, and Bobby hasn’t reached out yet.” 

Cas walked towards him. Dean was starting to spiral. He could see it on the hunter’s face, could feel the anxiety radiating off of him. Those gorgeous green eyes eventually settled on Cas’, and the angel felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He put both hands on Dean’s shoulders. “We will figure it out. Breathe, Dean.” 

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out, his shoulders dropping under Cas’ hands. Cas took the brief opportunity to look at Dean-- _really_ look at his freckles, his cheekbones, his lips. Dean was _perfect_. His heart thudded in his chest, and Dean’s eyes opened. 

Cas dropped his hands and backed away. “How can I help?” 

Sam handed him a stack of papers. “Since Dean decided to kill the planet and print everything out--”

“We need extra copies in case Charlie’s laptop breaks!”

“It won’t break, Dean. It’s _Charlie’s_ laptop.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with backup copies! And _you_ were complaining about staring at a screen all day.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to--”

“What are these?” Cas asked, cutting off the argument before it got any worse. He had a feeling that it was only a surface fight--not the root cause of the tension in the room. 

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Copies of emails and files related to Richard Roman Enterprises. Dean and Bobby and I have looked through them already, but maybe you can find something new.” The laptop pinged, and Sam ran over to it. “Yes!” 

“What’s up?” Dean asked, walking over. Cas couldn’t help admiring both of them. They were beautiful. So different in so many ways, but beautiful. Of course, he had different feelings about Dean’s beauty than Sam’s, but--

“Cas? Anybody home?” Dean’s green eyes were searching his, giving him a distinct “what the fuck” look. 

“What did you find?” Cas asked. 

“A new business plan,” Sam said. “Something about corn syrup?”

“Corn syrup?” Dean asked. 

Sam nodded and pushed the laptop towards Dean. “You read up on this. Cas, you look through those emails. I’ll...call Elle.” 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Dude, we just saw her last night. You don’t want to sound desperate.” 

“Shut up,” Sam snapped. “If she could turn Charlie into an angel, she might have enough juice to kill the Leviathans. Maybe she’ll know how to kill them, at least.” 

“Uh huh.” Dean had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Any excuse to talk to your girlfriend.” 

Sam flipped him off as he pulled out his phone and walked outside. 

Cas settled into the chair next to Dean’s. “Was that necessary?” 

“It wasn’t unnecessary,” Dean said. “I’m just getting even. He’s been bugging me all day about--” He abruptly cut himself off, cheeks turning red. 

“About?” Cas asked. 

“Nothing,” Dean mumbled. He jerked his head at the stack of papers. “See what you can find in there. I’ll see what I can track down on here.” 

Cas nodded, his head spinning with questions. But now was not the time. It was time to work. Dean was clearly overwhelmed, and their relationship felt so fragile. It always had, in a way--always unusually tense, always poised on the breaking point of...something. Some fundamental shift. 

Cas shook the thought away and focused on the papers. 

**Dean**

Being around Cas had been a hell of a lot easier before Charlie showed up. Dean had about a million questions that, if he was honest with himself, boiled down to two. What had Cas and Charlie talked about? Was there any chance--any at all--that Cas was romantically interested in him? 

_Jesus, Winchester,_ he chided himself. _You have work to do. Suck it up and do it._

Sam came in a little while later. “Well?” Dean asked. 

His giant nerd of a brother had an odd look on his face. “She doesn’t know off the top of her head, but she’ll do some digging. Maybe call in a favor or two, if she has to.” 

Dean frowned. “That sounds awfully involved for someone who seems to usually stick to her part of the woods.” 

“Well, as she put it, if the Leviathans win, her part of the woods will no longer exist.” 

“Uh huh.” Dean leaned back and studied his brother. “So what’s with the face?” 

Sam frowned at him. “What face?” 

“The slightly confused, someone-whacked-you-in-the-head face.” Dean spun an imaginary circle around his head. “Cartoon stars.”

Sam blushed. “None of your business.” 

Dean grinned and told Cas in a conspiratorial tone, “This has gotta be good.” 

Cas gave Dean an unreadable look. It lingered just a heartbeat longer than usual--long enough for the butterflies in Dean’s stomach to start tap dancing. The angel went back to his papers.

“Did she ask you out?” Dean refused to let this go.

Sam tossed his head lightly, getting his hair out of his face. 

“Did you ask her out?” 

Sam gave him a death glare. “No. Shut up. She asked me to look for a couple books--see if they’re in Bobby’s library.” 

“Her library seemed pretty extensive,” Cas commented. 

“Apparently, it’s mostly European and indigenous American folklore,” Sam explained. “And her journals. She has the Bible, but other than that, her Christianity texts are lacking.” When Dean kept staring at him, wiggling his eyebrows, Sam said, “We all have work to do. Dean, get your head out of the friggin’ gutter already.” 

Dean threw up his hands, thrilled at how frustrated Sam was. The best part of teasing Sam was his reaction. The more sensitive he was, the more he liked the girl. 

The three of them worked in relative peace and quiet until Dean’s stomach reminded him that food was important. “Break for dinner?” he asked. “I’ll break out the sandwich supplies.” 

Cas didn’t react. Sam put down his book and joined Dean in the kitchen. “I’ve gotta go to the library,” he said, loudly enough for Cas to hear. “I don’t think Bobby has the books Elle needs.” 

Dean’s stomach churned, and it had nothing to do with his hunger. “What are you doing?” he whispered. 

“ _Not_ third wheeling for the first time in _years_ ,” Sam whispered back. 

“It hasn’t been years, dude,” Dean said. Sam gave him his classic bitchface. “Fine. What am I supposed to do, man? It’s Cas.” Dean couldn’t fight the slight panic in his voice. 

“Exactly. It’s Cas.” Sam closed the fridge. “Figure it out.” 

Dean bit back a frustrated groan. _What the hell?_ “How late is the library open, anyway?” he asked in a louder voice. 

“24 hours,” Sam said. “University library.” He shrugged. “I’ll get a motel room somewhere. Come back in the morning.” 

_What the hell?!_ “What library are you going to, man?” Dean asked. 

“It’s a couple towns over. If I leave…” he checked his watch. “Now-ish, I’ll still be there with a few hours to spare. Could probably read in the morning, too.”

Dean turned around so Cas couldn’t see him and mouthed, “What the fuck?!” to his brother. Sam gave him a devious grin. “I hate you,” he muttered. 

“You’re welcome,” Sam told him. He raised his voice. “Cas, do you want anything?” 

“No thank you,” Cas said. “I have yet to enjoy the taste of molecules in sandwiches. There are too many. It’s not pleasant.” 

Sam and Dean bit back laughs. “Okay, then,” Dean said. “More for us.” He added several layers of ham to his sandwich and a generous swipe of mayo. Sam added more vegetables and somehow ate his sandwich in record time. He took the stairs two at a time and yelled down. “Call me if Bobby updates you, okay?” 

“What’s the rush, Sammy?” Dean yelled back. Sam popped his head out, and Dean made several faces that hopefully articulated his panic at being left alone with Cas for a night. 

Sam mouthed, “Figure it out!” and disappeared. 

“Dean?” Cas’ voice drifted from the living room. 

Dean ran his hand down his face. “I’m going to kill him,” he muttered to himself. “Yeah, Cas?” 

Cas held up a photo. “Who is this man?” 

Dean frowned at it. “Edgar. We think he’s one of the higher-ups.” He studied Cas. “I thought you knew who he was?” 

Cas’ eyes fell. “Everything after I took in the souls and before Elle fixed me is a blur. It’s hard to know what was real and what wasn’t.” 

The gravity of the past couple weeks hit Dean in a new way. Yeah, they’d been life-changing for him. But Cas had been possessed, died, came back, had amnesia, and was normal for less than a day before he took on Sam’s crazy. “Makes sense,” he muttered. “Jesus, Cas.” He gave Cas an unintentionally softer look. “You’ve been through a lot.” 

Cas met his eyes with an equally soft expression. “It was worth it. Not being possessed, of course. But saving Sam was worth it.” 

Maybe Dean had lost his marbles this time, but that was somehow one of the most romantic things he’d ever heard. Cas understood him. He knew what Sam meant to Dean. “Yeah. It was. And making a deal with Elle was worth it, too.” Cas tilted his head, confused and questioning. “To get you back,” Dean finished. 

Cas’ eyes studied his face, his eyes. That damn pull, that tension, was still there. Dean wondered what would happen if he just leaned forward, just let their own personal gravity field pull him in--

“Bye, guys!” Sam called. He was at the door, laptop and duffel bags slung over his shoulder. 

“Text me when you get there,” Dean said, feeling ridiculous but also suddenly nervous. 

Sam snorted but gave his brother a little half smile. “Yeah, okay.” He left, and Dean and Cas were alone. 

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Dishes,” he said to himself. “Dishes.” He cleaned up everything from dinner. He could handle dishes. He could focus on that, maybe have some liquid courage. 

“Dean?” 

“Yeah, buddy?” 

Cas was standing at his side in an instant. Dammit--how did the son of a bitch move so quietly? “Would you mind summarizing what has happened with the Leviathans until now? Remind me of everything that wasn’t in the papers Sam gave me?” He was--probably unintentionally--giving Dean a puppy dog look that almost put Sam’s to shame. “I just want to be clear on what was real and what was not.” 

“Yeah, Cas. Of course.” He felt fidgety. Awkward. What the hell would help? Why the hell did Charlie open up this friggin’ can of worms? But underneath the awkwardness was something brighter. Happier. Hopeful. 

_Hopeful?_ Dean Winchester? Feeling hopeful? Dean shook his head to clear it. Liquid courage. That’s what he needed. He took a glass from the cabinet. “Well, Edgar’s the guy who attacked me and Sam at Bobby’s. Pretty sure he lit the damn place on fire.” 

Recognition sparked in Cas’ eyes. “Is that what caused your leg injury?” Dean grabbed the whiskey and opened it with a questioning look. “The one that I healed. When my memory came back.” 

Dean’s hand slipped as he tried to open the whiskey. “Uh, yeah. He broke my leg and busted Sam’s head.” He managed to open the bottle and pour himself a double. 

“Did you kill him?” 

“We tried,” Dean said. “Turns out dropping a car on these sons of bitches doesn’t do the trick. Borax and beheading seems to be our best shot so far.” 

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “What other Leviathans should I know about?” 

Dean sat at the table, and Cas followed suit. “Well, I’m guessing you know Dick Roman is the boss guy, right?” Cas nodded. “The hospital in Sioux Falls has at least two. Or they did, last time we were there.” Dean rattled off the rest of the Leviathan info that he thought Cas should know. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the routine of catching Cas up on a case. But the tension and awkwardness were fading. This was normal. It was a strange version of normal since Bobby and Sam weren’t around, without a doubt. But Cas watching Dean as he spoke, taking in every word? Dean making sure they were on the same page? Talking about monsters? That was normal. Easy. 

“Have you heard anything from Crowley? Or other angels?” Cas asked. 

Dean sipped his whiskey, relishing the burn. “Crowley, yeah. He hates these guys. Told the demons to stay out of our way so we can deal with them.” 

Surprise flickered across Cas’ face. _Those cheekbones_ , Dean thought. Had he never really looked at Cas before? Sure, he’d looked at the guy, but he’d never really paid attention. He was mesmerized. 

“And the angels?” Cas’ voice almost brought him back to reality, but Dean made the mistake of focusing on Cas’ beautiful blue eyes. 

“Uh…” He dropped his eyes, trying to clear his head, but they landed on Cas’ lips. Not helpful. “No. Other than you and Charlie and apparently Gabriel pulling some strings behind the scenes, nothing.” 

Cas’ eyes went distant again. Lost. Dean was suddenly reminded of their earlier conversation. “They’ll be okay, Cas.” 

Cas’ face didn’t lose that terrible distance. “Hey,” Dean said gently. Acting on impulse, he reached for Cas, thinking he’d take the angel’s arm. Apparently his instincts had other plans, because he took Cas’ hand instead. Cas blinked a few times before focusing on Dean, and Christ on a cracker his face was soft. Scared. Beautifully, painfully open. “I, uh…” Cas, ever patient, just waited for Dean to say his piece. _Focus, Winchester._ “I’m sorry you can’t go back to heaven. Help out up there.” 

The pain in Cas’ eyes faded, just a little. “Thank you, Dean. Hopefully my work here on earth will also benefit my siblings in heaven.” His eyes dropped to their hands. Dean had forgotten to move his. “We’ve done this before, haven’t we?” Cas asked. _That_ tone of voice was completely new. Soft and warm and hesitant. Vulnerable. 

“Yeah, we have,” Dean said gently. “We held hands last night.” He chuckled lightly at the memory. “I had to hold your hand to keep you from running off.”

“You kept holding it,” Cas said. His head was still down, studying his lap. “When we were in Elle’s house.” 

_Shit._ Dean’s heart picked up speed. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He instinctively squeezed Cas’ hand before letting go. “Guess I was still worried about you running off.” 

“I doubt I could have,” Cas said. “Elle put the wards back up once we got inside.” 

“Huh.” Dean leaned back in his chair. “Guess it’s her version of locking the door behind her. Speaking of,” he jerked a thumb behind him, “I should lock this one.” He took the quick walk to the door and back to internally berate himself. What the hell was he thinking? Cas was an angel. Cas didn’t have feelings. Sure, Dean was in love with him, and yeah, Charlie hadn’t discouraged him, but still. Admitting his feelings to himself was one thing. Acting on them? Was he ready for that? Hell no. 

But when he sat back down, Cas’ eyes were all gooey and soft. Was he really not ready? Or was he just scared? Their lives were so dangerous. They could die any day. So what the hell was he waiting for? 


	17. Chapter 17

The remaining research--and Dean’s whiskey--went by surprisingly fast. The only interruption was a text from Sam, telling Dean that he’d made it and would get a motel that night.

When the words started swimming in front of his eyes, Dean stood and stretched. “I think we can call it a night, Cas. We’ve been at this long enough.” He picked up his whiskey glass and walked into the kitchen.

“Dean,” Cas said.

Dean set his glass down, not turning away from the sink, fighting the instinct to meet Cas’ eyes. His voice, that deep rumble, was unapologetically commanding, but Dean was stubborn as hell. But Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Dean had missed that voice.

“Sam and Bobby will be fine.”

Dean snorted. “I’m that easy to read, huh?”

“I held your soul when I carried you out of hell.” Cas walked into the kitchen. “I pieced your body together. To me, yes, you’re that easy to read.”

Dean almost dropped the glass as his stomach swooped. _Shit_. He’d forgotten all of that. Cas was strong and powerful and knew him--really knew him.

Fuck. What else did Cas know?

“When you heal people,” he said, trying to come up with something to change the subject, “how does it work?”

Cas frowned and did that goddamn adorable head tilt. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just...trying to figure out how your memory came back. If it was...you know…” Jesus. Dean was horrible at this. He wanted another drink but didn’t trust himself to be truly drunk around Cas.

“Connected to healing you?”

Dean nodded and became quite fascinated with the floor.

“It’s certainly possible. Probable, even,” Cas said. “Elle might have the answer.”

Dean snorted. “Elle just seems to be everyone’s answer now, huh? She’s the person everyone needs.”

“Not everyone,” Cas said. “And she’s not the only person the world needs.”

Dean frowned and risked focusing on Cas instead of the floor. The angel almost looked...nervous? Awkward? But that didn’t make any sense.

“The world needs the Winchesters.” Cas took a hesitant step closer. “And, clearly, so do I.”

Dean’s heart caught in his chest. “How? Why?” Confusion flickered across Cas’ face, and Dean started rambling. “You’re an angel, man. We’re just people. We’re just two blundering dumbasses that tend to get lucky.”

Cas shook his head in wonder as sadness leaked into his eyes. “Why do you always sell yourself short?”

Dean snorted and looked down again. Cas’ eyes were too much. “Old habits, I guess.”

“Promise me you’ll try to change that.”

The tone in Cas’ voice was too raw for Dean to do anything _but_ look at him. Cas meant it. He meant every friggin’ word. “Promise me, Dean.”

“Okay, okay,” Dean said softly. “I promise.”

Cas relaxed. “Thank you.”

Dean was stunned by the intensity of the moment and the resulting electric tension between them with no Sam or Bobby to act as a buffer. He cleared his throat instinctively and dried his hands, nodding and starting to walk towards the stairs. His emotions were tumbling around, nerves making him question everything. His instinct, in this moment at least, was to run away.

“Dean.”

Dean bit back a massive sigh and turned back to Cas. “What?”

Cas’ eyes dropped. “There’s...something I think you should know. About me.”

Dean’s heart started racing. “Okay,” he said cautiously.

Cas chewed on his bottom lip. That was a human behavior, Dean noted. On an angel. On _his_ angel. And it looked good.

“Something...happened to me when I was brought back this time. Or maybe it’s from being Emmanuel. I don’t know.” Cas’ tone was hesitant, worried. This was hard for him.

Dean suddenly forgot his fatigue. He didn’t want to run. He wanted to help. “Okay,” he said again, a little more gently this time.

Cas’ eyes left the floor and found Dean’s, and Dean was shocked to see real and true and loud _emotions_ in them. Regret. Worry. Fear. “I _feel_ things now, Dean. And my grace is weaker. _I’m_ weaker. I’m not the angel who fought by your side before. I’m not human, but I’m...not a normal angel, either. I’m something in between. Something broken.” Cas’ eyebrows pulled together as his shoulders fell. Dean’s heart cracked. “I’m sorry. I’d fix it if I--”

“Don’t,” Dean said, surprised at the word and the tension in his voice. He closed the distance separating them and felt that pull, that tug again. Could Cas feel it now, too? “You don’t have to apologize, okay?”

Cas frowned. “But--”

Dean put both hands on Cas’ shoulders. “You’re back, man. We’ll figure the rest out.”

Cas’ worried expression didn’t fade. “How do you deal with feelings?”

The words were so simple but felt so abrupt, so piercing. Dean laughed without humor and let Cas go, taking a few steps back. He was suddenly incapable of meeting the angel’s intense blue stare or handling the heat between them. “I’m the wrong guy to ask, man. Sam’s better at that than me.”

Cas was quiet. Dean lifted his gaze from the floor and saw Cas’ characteristic squint and head tilt. God, he’d missed that. He’d missed _Cas_. “You don’t deal with your feelings, do you?”

Dean ran one hand over his hair, licked his lips. This wasn’t a normal conversation. But he wanted to give Cas the truth, no matter the cost. “Not usually, and not well. Charlie being around has helped. She’s forced me to talk through some shit.”

Cas’ eyes on Dean’s were steady, completely nonjudgmental. “She helped me talk through some things as well.”

Dean’s heart picked up a frantic pace. He’d hoped. He’d wondered. If Charlie had talked to both of them...did that mean what he wanted it to mean? They were so close. They were flirting with the words that Dean was terrified to say but wanted desperately to hear.

“When Charlie isn’t around, how do you deal with your emotions?” Cas asked.

Dean chuckled lightly. Those weren’t the words he’d wanted, but they were easier to handle. “Usually? I beat the shit out of monsters and demons to keep a lid on it. And when that doesn’t work, whiskey usually does the trick.”

Cas’ worried look was back. “That can’t be good for you.”

Dean shrugged. The eye contact was too much again. “I’ll work on changing it, I guess. But it doesn’t really matter.”

“Yes, it does,” said Cas fiercely. The fire in his tone was both new and familiar, and Dean looked back up. Cas stepped back into his space. “You matter, Dean. You matter to Sam, and Bobby, and Charlie, and everyone else who has been lucky enough to know you. You matter to me.”

To his horror, Dean felt tears welling up. He bit his lip, hoping the pain would snap him the hell out of this. This was too much. All of it was way too goddamn much.

“I’m so sorry,” Cas said. God, the pain in his voice was devastating. He looked stricken. “I was just telling the truth. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Dean’s heart broke. “C’mere, you idiot,” he grumbled and hugged Cas, letting his arms relax and mold around him. Cas froze for a beat before holding Dean back. They’d hugged a few times recently, but this was different. Cas held him with a warmth Dean had last felt...never. And as Cas held him, Dean relaxed, sinking into the angel’s embrace just a little. It was an almost imperceptible shift, but it was there. And Cas just kept holding him as the pieces of Dean’s broken heart slowly came back together.

Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the intensity of the past few weeks. Maybe it was from all the damn emotional labor he’d done way too quickly. But Dean couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go of the angel he thought he’d lost in two ways before getting him back only to lose him again.

“Are you feeling better now, Dean?” Cas asked. But he didn’t move. His voice rumbled against Dean’s body, sending shockwaves down to his toes.

Dean swallowed and nodded, his head brushing against Cas’. Not knowing what else to do--not ready for anything else--he let the angel go. “Yeah. Uh.” He scratched the back of his head. “Anyway.”

Cas gave him a small, warm smile he _knew_ he’d never seen before. “Anyway.”

Dean’s brain short circuited. The moment wasn’t crackling with electricity anymore. It was a fire, warm and blazing and demanding his attention. What the hell? Why was he acting like some chick in a freaking rom com? He just stared at Cas, lost in those blue eyes, waiting for--

His phone rang. The sound made Dean breathe in sharply. He picked up. “Yeah?”

“It was a milk run after all,” Bobby said. “Just one vamp.”

“Easy as pie, then,” Dean said, turning away from Cas and the moment he had no friggin’ clue how to handle. “How was Jody?”

“Handled it like a champ,” Bobby said. The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

“Careful, Bobby, or you’ll make a hunter out of a perfectly nice--”

“She’s been a hunter, Dean. Ever since those damn zombies. I’m just showing her a few tricks of the trade.”

“Uh huh. That all you showing her?”

“Shut up, idjit.” Dean grinned. _That_ was a dead giveaway if he’d ever heard one. “I’ll drive home tomorrow.”

“You’re staying at her place?” Dean asked, turning around so Cas could see how high his eyebrows were. This was _priceless_.

“Who the hell are you? Some gossiping preteen?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’ll be home tomorrow.” Bobby hung up abruptly. Dean laughed, shaking his head at his phone.

“Is everything okay?” Cas asked.

“It’s great,” Dean said. “Bobby and Jody are fine--maybe even better than fine.”

“That’s...good?” Cas asked.

“It’s really good.” Dean smiled. The memory of their embrace was still hanging in the air, waiting to be picked up. If only Dean knew how.

“I, uh, guess I should head to bed.” He jerked his thumb awkwardly towards the stairs.

“Of course,” Cas said. Then he added, “I’m sorry.”

 _That_ didn’t make any sense. Dean spun around. Shit. Cas suddenly looked crestfallen. “Why? What are you sorry for?”

Cas paused. Dean could almost watch the angel sort through his thoughts and see the wheels turning in his head. Cas studied him for a beat before his shoulders fell. “Everything. The lying, the Leviathans, the--”

“Cas, we’ve been over this. I forgive you.”

“ _How_?” Cas asked. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?”

“Forgiveness,” Cas said, stepping close. His eyes were searching Dean’s, begging for answers. “You don’t forgive easily. You forgive Sam, with time. And you’d forgive Bobby and your father and Charlie, but--”

“They’re family,” Dean finished. When Cas still looked lost and afraid, Dean took a step closer and continued. “That’s what you are, man. You’re family.”

“Family,” Cas repeated, his eyes dropping. Dean was suddenly intensely, painfully aware of how close they were. There was barely any space between them at all. “What does that mean?” Cas asked quietly, his eyes popping back up and searching Dean’s.

“It’s different for everyone,” Dean tried to explain. They were dancing around the truth that had kicked his heart into overdrive, the truth he had barely come to acknowledge. The truth that scared the _shit_ out of him.

“I, um.” Dean licked his lips nervously.

Cas’ eyes darted down to them, lingering there. Fucking hell. They lingered.

Dean forced himself to continue. “I feel differently about Bobby than I feel about Sam. Or you.”

“Or me?”

Dean nodded. He was out of words, lost in this delicate little moment, in the way his hands were clammy and his heart was pounding out a frantic rhythm that Cas could probably hear.

 _Say something,_ he thought. _Please, please, say something._

Cas didn’t speak. His eyes drifted down to Dean’s hand. He carefully, ever so slowly and gently, slotted his fingers through Dean’s. Dean’s breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t pull away.

Cas’ eyes darted up, hopeful and open and so, so blue.

And Dean gave in. He gave in to the pull, the magnetism, the tension between them. He gave in to what his heart was begging for. Before he could second-guess himself, before he lost his nerve, before the world tore them apart again, Dean tilted his head down and pressed his lips to Cas’. The touch was a whisper, a question.

Cas froze, and Dean panicked. Rejection knocked the wind out of him. He’d misread everything. This was stupid--no, beyond stupid. This was insane. He backed away and released the angel’s hand. “Shit, Cas, I’m--”

But Cas closed the space between them, wrapped one hand around the back of Dean’s neck, and kissed Dean softly, achingly so. The angel gently carded his fingers through the hair at the bottom of Dean’s neck. Something happened in Dean’s chest, some sort of thud or tiny earthquake, and it echoed out. Dean gasped a little in surprise. Cas pulled away, blue eyes bright with worry. “Was that--”

Dean kissed him back, more intentionally this time. The question had been answered with a resounding _yes_ that Dean felt in his core. Cas exhaled in a rush and matched Dean’s intensity. Dean felt a strong arm wrap around him, pull him closer. Relief and blinding joy and something intoxicating pushed him into Cas, encouraged him to fall into the angel’s embrace. He hesitantly let one of his hands caress the side of Cas’ face, marveling at the scratchy stubble there, before carding his fingers through the angel’s hair. Cas made a soft little encouraging sound, and arousal joined the feelings burning through Dean’s veins. He pulled Cas’ bottom lip between his and lightly ran his tongue over it. Cas made another delightful little sound. Dean’s hands started to roam over Cas’ back and shoulders. Even through that stupid trenchcoat, Dean could feel how strong Cas was.

Cas surprised him by shifting the kiss so Dean’s lower lip was locked between his, and Dean’s limited awareness of the rest of the world fell away. The doubts, the internalized homophobia, the mistakes of the past and fears of the future, fell away. There was only Cas, only his lips pressed to Dean’s and his arms holding him close. The world narrowed to the two of them, to hands exploring gently and fingers running through hair and quiet little gasps of air. Cas’ touches became less hesitant, more purposeful, and Dean remembered. He remembered that the angel in his arms had led armies for millennia, had given up his freedom and family and home to save him. And Dean _melted_ in his angel’s arms. The kiss continued, and time lost all meaning.

Eventually, after Dean’s heart had been cracked wide open and his world had turned upside down, Cas pulled away. He gave Dean a knowing smile. “Are you sure I’m still family?”

Dean huffed a laugh and tried to disentangle himself from Cas’ arms. “Shut up,” he grumbled, but there was no heat to it. Cas grinned in response, his eyes sparkling, and kissed him. This one felt different. Slower. More tender. Less surprise and fireworks, more intention and simmering coals. By the time they broke apart, Dean was completely breathless and more than a little starstruck. He was in love. He was completely, totally, over-the-moon in love with a fallen angel. A fallen angel who, for some unfathomable reason, loved him back. Or at least cared enough about him to kiss him absolutely stupid. Dean hoped Cas loved him back. What else could it be?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Cas asked, letting Dean go. Mostly. He held onto Dean’s hand, slotting their fingers together.

Dean was a little too busy trying to get his balance back, trying to bring the world beyond the angel into focus, to think of words. “Huh?”

Cas smiled. How was the damn son of a bitch so put together? “What are you thinking?”

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to focus. Trying to put words together that weren’t insanely sappy. He felt Cas squeeze his hand, and his eyes opened again. The world was still there, he realized. It had just changed shape. It was brighter this way. His eyes landed on Cas’, on the glimmers of hope and wonder in them. “I’m one lucky son of a bitch.”

Shit. So much for not sappy. But Cas squeezed his hand again. He beamed at Dean, smiling so big that his nose scrunched up and his gums showed. Cas was practically glowing.

Maybe sappy wasn’t a bad thing.

“Should I let you sleep?” Cas asked. When Dean just blinked at him again, he added, “It’s well after midnight.”

“Shit. Probably.” Dean ran a hand down his face and suddenly felt all of the fatigue that the kiss had held at bay. “Yeah. I should sleep.”

“Okay.” Cas squeezed his hand and let go, walking towards the couch.

“Cas?”

Blue eyes darted up to green. Dean took his hand and led Cas up the stairs.

“Dean, you need to sleep,” Cas said gently. But he kept walking with Dean, which was something.

“Never said I wasn’t gonna sleep,” Dean said. He ran his free hand up Cas’ arm when they reached the top of the stairs. “Just not right away.” He kissed Cas, who was surprisingly hesitant at first. Dean tried to focus this time and not just get caught up in, well, everything.

He _loved_ it. He loved kissing another guy. He loved the contrast between Cas’ rough stubble and his soft hair, the sharp lines of his body and his pillow-soft lips. He caught Cas’ bottom lip between both of his, and Cas groaned. The hesitation disappeared. Cas spun them around so Dean was against the wall. Shock zipped through Dean, amplifying the arousal that had been simmering ever since Cas kissed him the first time. Dean ran his hands under Cas’ trench coat before trying to push it off.

“Dean,” Cas said in a tone that was beautifully rough. Was it a warning?

“You wear too many clothes,” Dean told him. He tried to push off the trench coat again, and Cas let him. Dean’s eyes raked over the sight of Cas in his blue suit with that perfect blue tie. _Goddammit. You’re beautiful._ He started on Cas’ suit jacket buttons.

“Dean,” Cas said again. “What are you doing?”

Dean blinked a few times. What was he doing? “Taking your clothes off.”

Cas caught Dean’s hands in his. “What happened to sleeping?”

“Later,” Dean said, kissing Cas and extricating his hands so they could run over the angel’s strong stomach when he finally managed to undo the suit buttons. Cas exhaled in a rush that was deliciously close to a moan and kissed Dean harder. Cas’ jacket fell to the floor. Dean broke the kiss and reached for his flannel.

“Wait,” Cas said. His voice was wrecked.

Dean froze. He stayed still, leaning against the wall.

Cas searched his eyes, dark with arousal and brimming with worry. He broke eye contact. “Not like this,” he said quietly.

“Huh?” _Real eloquent, Winchester._ Dean tried again. “What do you mean?”

Cas wouldn’t meet his eyes. His arms, which had been caging Dean in, fell. “I don’t want to be like them.”

Dean had to fight to keep the confusion and frustration out of his voice. He gently crooked a knuckle under the angel’s chin, encouraging him to raise it. “Who?”

Cas tilted his chin up, and his eyes were a fire of arousal, fear, and something else. Something sharper. “All of the women you meet, flirt with, and fuck in the same night. And never speak to again.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “Cas...you’re nothing like them. This is nothing like that. At all.”

“Then can we treat it differently?” Cas asked. The fear was starting to fade.

“We can,” Dean agreed. The logical part of his brain told him to stop there. But something about kissing Cas made his brain-to-mouth filter completely shut down. “But...why? Do you not want to have sex with me?”

Cas studied him with that piercing analytical look Dean had slowly gotten used to before leaning in and kissing him again. This one started off slow but reached hot and heavy in record time. When Cas pulled away, Dean was clinging to his shoulders for balance. His knees had given out. “What do you think?” Cas asked.

Dean knew the answer. He heard it in Cas’ completely wrecked tone. He knew it from the way Cas had just kissed him stupid. Again. “Yes?”

Cas nodded. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?” Dean asked in a tone that was far too close to a whine for his liking.

“Because we’ve both been through a lot very quickly. And there’s no need to rush.” Cas’ eyes flashed when Dean opened his mouth to talk. “Don’t even _try_ to give me the last night on earth speech.”

Dean closed his mouth and glared at Cas. The angel’s eyes softened. “I’m not like you, Dean. I can’t sleep with someone one night and then go back to business as usual the next morning.” Cas dropped his eyes. “I’m not even used to kissing. The physical sensations are...a lot. And they’re all new.”

“You’re still getting used to having a vessel,” Dean said, connecting the dots.

“That’s part of it, yes.” Cas paused.

“And the rest of it?” Dean asked.

Cas gave Dean the softest, most tender look he’d ever been given. It was care and affection and admiration and...love, probably. “I’m already overwhelmed. I do want to sleep with you, but I want to savor it the first time. Not rush it.” He smiled shyly. “Maybe we could go on a date first.”

“I’d fucking love to go on a date with you,” Dean said.

Cas kissed him one, two, three times--just long enough for Dean’s head to spin again. “Perfect.” He stared into Dean’s eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. We can take our time.”

Dean exhaled in relief and wonder. How had he known? How had Cas known what Dean was afraid of before Dean himself even realized it? “Okay.” He pulled away from the wall and went to the bedroom, grabbing his pajamas and fighting the urge to collapse on the bed and sleep instantly. Cas wasn’t the only one dealing with overwhelm. “You know, you can sleep with me without sleeping with me. If you want.”

Cas gave him a head tilt.

Dean waved at the bed. “You can meditate while I sleep. We can both be in the bed. Or you can be on the bed. Or you can go downstairs.” He shrugged, pretending he didn’t care. “Whatever you want. I’ll just be a minute.”

“I’ll be here,” Cas said. Dean went into the bathroom and closed the door gently.

Holy shit. Holy friggin’ shit. He’d kissed Cas. Cas had kissed him. Cas was in his bedroom. Dean’s inner monologue ran out of words and started expressing itself in fireworks and exclamation points. How was this real? How was he this happy? And this happy about kissing a guy? About kissing Cas, specifically?

Maybe that was the point, he thought as he brushed his teeth. If it had been anyone else, of any gender, he wouldn’t be this happy. Yeah, he was still kind of freaking out about Cas being a guy. Hell, he was still getting used to the idea of liking guys. But when he pushed past his knee-jerk reactions of fear and panic, there was freedom. Freedom and a soul-deep sense of knowing. He liked men. And he liked women.

Most importantly, he was in love with his best friend. Which was equal parts terrifying and freeing. His chest ached. He imagined his heart being broken open. Not broken and painful or damaged. Broken like an eggshell or a case--broken to reveal the true and tender goodness within.

Cas had seen that. Cas knew his soul. He knew what Dean’s heart was like, and he didn’t turn away. And that was a start.

Dean walked back into the bedroom. Cas was staring out the window. “Is that how you usually meditate?” Dean asked.

“By watching the stars?” Cas shrugged. “Occasionally.” He watched curiously as Dean got under the covers. “That’s comfortable for you?”

Dean nodded, shifting around and rearranging pillows. Cas turned back to the stars, and Dean felt a strange rush of annoyance. “Cas.”

The angel turned back to the bed. Dean patted the space next to him.

Cas sat down hesitantly. “No shoes?”

“No shoes. Or tie, or button-down shirt, or dress pants, if you don’t want ‘em,” Dean grumbled. He was already fading off into sleep. “Beds are comfy. You should be comfy.” He let his eyes drift closed.

He heard a faint rustle of clothing. Shoes landing on the floor. The silk slide of a tie coming off. A zipper being undone.

His eyes opened. Cas was in a T-shirt and boxers, and he looked _good_. Dean shamelessly checked him out, noticing Cas’ blush. “Kinda weird seeing you without all those damn layers.”

“I can put them back on,” Cas offered.

“Didn’t say it was a bad weird,” Dean said quickly. Cas smiled softly. Had anyone ever flirted with Cas? Told him how friggin’ gorgeous he was? That soft smile made Dean wonder if this part of dating was new to the angel, too. He threw the blankets open on Cas’ side. Cas’ eyes flitted from the blankets to Dean. “If you want,” Dean told him.

Cas slipped under the covers without hesitation. He pulled Dean towards him. Dean went with it and fell onto Cas’ chest, his arm draping over the angel. “Is this okay?” Cas asked quietly.

Okay? Try fucking _perfect_. How had Cas known exactly what he wanted without even asking?

Too tired to put any of those thoughts into words, Dean just hummed his agreement. Cas lightly stroked his hair, and Dean turned into a puddle. A thought occurred to him, and he was tired enough to not have a filter. “When you said all of the physical sensations are new…”

Cas’ hand froze. “Is this not okay?”

“This is awesome.” Cas relaxed and let his fingers card through Dean’s hair. “Did you mean...touching. Kissing. Sleeping with someone. Having sex.” Dean tilted his head so he could see Cas’ face. “All of that is new?”

After a moment of hesitation, Cas nodded. He glanced down at Dean. Worry and shyness and a little bit of fear were written across his face. “Yes. Was it all...okay? Is that okay?”

Dean propped himself up on his elbow and kissed Cas quickly and gently. “It was awesome. It is awesome. _You’re_ awesome.”

Cas’ eyes lit up, and Dean let his head fall back to the angel’s shoulder. “Damn, Cas. You’re really fucking good at this already. How?”

Cas let his fingers run through Dean’s hair again. “I know you.” He rested his head on Dean’s, shifting slightly to get the right angle and humming happily when he found it, and that was it. Dean was a total goner. Any doubts of his love for Cas disappeared as he drifted off into sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Dean woke up slowly, sensation returning to each of his limbs in bits and pieces. His legs were tangled up with someone else’s. His cheek was resting on a solid, firm chest. _Cas’_ chest.

He squeezed his eyes closed. He needed another minute to process. 

Last night. Last night, he’d kissed Cas. Cas had kissed him back. They’d kissed some more. They’d talked about having sex eventually. Going on a date before having sex. Dean had fallen asleep in Cas’ arms.

A litany of swears started playing in Dean’s internal monologue, but they weren’t from panic. They were coming from that brilliantly blinding part of him, so bright and sharp it hurt to look at or think about too much. What was that? Happiness? 

Balls. He was happy. What the fuck was he supposed to do with _happy_? 

He shifted, bringing the arm that had been thrown across Cas back to his side. “Good morning,” he grumbled, his voice thick with sleep. 

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas’ voice sounded annoyingly awake. “Did you sleep okay?” 

Dean sighed, taking stock of his body. “Yeah,” he mumbled, surprised. “I slept great. How was your, uh…” He rubbed his eyes. 

“Meditation?” Cas supplied. 

Dean nodded. He was running out of words. He needed coffee. 

“It was nice,” Cas said simply. 

Dean nodded again and sat up slowly. “What time is it?” 

“Ten a.m.”

Dean frowned. “Ten? Are Sam and Bobby back yet?” 

“No.” Cas’ eyebrows came together. “Should they be?” 

“Dunno.” Dean took a deep breath through his nose. “Coffee?” 

“I thought you’d want some ready when you woke up. But then I didn’t want you to be surprised that I’d gone. So I made it and...um...came back to bed.” Cas’ voice got softer and shyer the longer he spoke. 

Dean’s jaw dropped slightly. He turned around so he was facing Cas again. Those blue eyes were so hesitant, so worried. “Is that okay?” 

Dean’s heart melted. Cas made coffee? Then _came back to bed_? And was worried? Before the _I love you_ that was bubbling up and out of his heart made it across his lips, Dean leaned forward and kissed Cas. The angel’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed. “It’s perfect,” Dean told him. 

Cas smiled lightly. “Okay. It should be ready by now.” 

They heard the door open. “Oh, fresh coffee. Thank God. Dean?” Sam called. 

“If there’s coffee, he can’t be far behind,” Bobby said. 

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit_. They were back. Sam and Bobby were back. Dean was in bed with Cas. Fear and adrenaline coursed through him. How was he going to--

“I’ll go first,” Cas said. “Get my coat and jacket. Give you a minute to wake up.” He stood, and Dean’s panicked eyes darted up to him. The look on his face broke Dean’s heart. Cas might as well have been a soldier going into battle. Resigned. Determined to be strong, regardless of anything else he might be feeling. 

Dean caught his hand. “Or.” 

Cas’ eyes were wary, maybe even a little hopeful. “Or?” 

Dean took a deep breath. “Or we go down together.” 

Cas’ eyes lit up. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. I think Sam and Bobby have already figured it out, anyway.” 

Cas tilted his head in a question. “Figured what out?” 

Dean blushed and pointed back and forth between himself and Cas. “Us.” 

“That doesn’t mean we have to tell them right away.” 

Dean frowned. _Why is Cas fighting this?_ “They’ll read the room and know immediately, probably.” 

“Dean.” Cas brushed his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand. “We don’t have to tell them today if you want more time. I know this is a lot.” 

_Dammit_. Cas knew Dean better than he let on. He knew the internalized homophobia, knew how much more real whatever they had would feel once they told others. He was gracefully giving Dean an out. 

But that out meant hiding. It meant keeping himself in the closet, keeping what he had with Cas tucked away. And every fiber of his being rebelled against that idea. “No.” 

A flicker of hope sparked in those gorgeous blue eyes. “No?” 

Dean kissed Cas’ hand. “We live together. They’ll figure it out. And I don’t want to hide you.” Dean laughed at himself. “I’m scared shitless, but that don’t mean I want to hide this.” 

Cas kissed him hard and thoroughly enough that Dean lost his balance and sense of time. “Thank you, Dean.” Cas frowned. “You taste funny.” 

Dean laughed--giggled, really. “I need coffee. And to brush my teeth. Come on.” He took Cas’ hand, stood, walked to the door, and came face to face with Sam.

Dean must’ve missed the sounds of Sam’s ginormous steps on the stairs. His heart kicked into overdrive. Sam’s eyes skimmed over Dean’s clothes, then Cas’ (or, rather, lack of clothes) before darting to the messy bed. His face was quickly getting as red as Dean’s felt. 

“Uh, hey, guys,” Sam said. There was an unusual sparkle in his eyes. 

“Hello, Sam,” Cas said, apparently unbothered. But he stayed behind Dean, who couldn’t stand the tension anymore. 

“Move, you stupid giant,” Dean grumbled. “I need coffee.” 

The sparkle turned into a smile. “Who started it?” He blocked the door.

“Started what?” Cas asked innocently. 

“Who made the first move?” Sam asked. 

“I did,” Dean said, taking a deep breath and standing taller than usual. He knew Sam supported him and Cas, but a part of him was still deeply defensive. 

The smile turned into a shit-eating grin. “Fucking finally.” He turned his head to the side and towards the stairs. “Bobby!” 

“What?” 

Dean spun around to look at Cas, who had a beautifully soft look of wonder on his face. He looked at Dean, his eyes full of happy questions. 

“You owe me forty bucks!” Sam shot one last grin at Dean and Cas before running downstairs.

Bobby swore as Cas walked to Dean’s side. Dean took his angel’s hand and started making his way towards coffee--and Bobby. They paused on the top of the stairs, but Dean felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff. Another turning point. He’d been so swept up in his strange and new happiness that he’d forgotten, for a few moments, what--who--he could lose. He looked down the stairs at the guy who’d been a father to him for a long, long time. 

Cas squeezed his hand, and Dean snapped out of it. Those gorgeous blue eyes were soft, warm, encouraging. Strong. Maybe Cas could be strong for both of them--at least until Dean got his coffee. They made their way down the stairs. 

Bobby looked pissed, but Dean had a feeling it had more to do with the two $20 bills he was handing over to Sam than anything else. “You idjits finally got your heads outta your asses?” he asked gruffly. 

Dean nodded, now holding onto Cas like a lifeline. 

Bobby smiled--actually smiled. _Holy shit_. “It’s about damn time.” 

“I know, right?” said a bright female voice. The boys jumped as Charlie appeared out of nowhere. 

“How long have you been here?” Dean demanded. Cas squeezed his hand, and he jumped again. It felt so good and strange and weird and _right_. 

Charlie scoffed. “Dude. I just got here. Wasn’t here last night, either.” She winked. 

Her wink was met with furious blushes from Dean and Sam and an “Oh, hell,” from Bobby. “I’m happy for you kids,” the older hunter continued, “but I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Mnh-mnh,” Sam said. “Nope. Thrilled. No stories.” 

Cas just frowned at Dean and gave him that goddamn head tilt. “I don’t understand.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Cas,” Charlie said as she poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Dean. 

She was beaming. “I gotta go, but I wanted to say hi/bye first.” 

“Hi/bye?” Sam asked, frowning. “You just got here.” 

“Time to get my award from Gabriel,” Charlie explained.

“Award?” Dean asked. 

“Permanent Cupid status,” Charlie said, almost glowing with pride. As she should be, Dean thought. With all the glitter and rainbows that should go with it. Dean squeezed Cas’ hand and felt his angel squeeze back. _His angel_. Holy shit.

“Will you visit?” Sam asked in an unusually small voice. 

Charlie’s eyes went sad. “Cupids start things, Sam,” she told him. “We get the ball rolling. This ball,” she waved at Dean and Cas, “is rolling, and there are so many queer babes who are stuck.”

“Thank you, Charlie,” Cas said warmly. Warmly. There was warmth in Cas’ voice. Dean had to focus on the moment, on Cas’ big hand in his. 

“Uh, yeah, Charles,” he said. “Thanks.” 

Charlie winked at him. “My pleasure. Gotta do what I can to help everyone get their happy endings.” 

Dean abruptly choked on his coffee. Sam and Bobby did the same. Cas was, as usual, blissfully ignorant.

“Go on, kid,” Bobby said gruffly. “Get outta here. Go raise hell somewhere else.” 

“I wouldn’t call this raising hell,” Charlie said, clearly delighting in how friggin’ awkward everyone else felt. Bobby grumbled unintelligibly. 

Charlie hugged Sam, Bobby, Cas, and Dean in turn. As she made her rounds, Dean suddenly thought of his “heaven” dream. His family in the kitchen. Cas by his side. His eyes misted over by the time Charlie got to him. This wasn’t his heaven dream, but it was pretty damn close. “Take care of yourself, kid,” he muttered. 

She ruffled his hair before letting him go. “You too. And don’t you dare undo all the hard work we’ve done. Got it?” 

Her stern look was almost humorous. Dean nodded, blinking away the tears that were threatening to escape. Happy tears. How fucking strange. 

“I’d tell you good luck,” Sam told her, “but you’re not gonna need it. If you can push these two together--”

Charlie just grinned. “I know.” 

They all laughed. “Bye, bitches,” Charlie said, her voice bittersweet. 

“See you around, kiddo,” Dean said. And she was gone. 

Sam spoke first, breaking the silence that Charlie had left in her wake. “Is that your first cup of coffee?” He jerked his chin at his brother. 

Dean nodded, holding it tight with one hand and breathing it in. 

“Have you eaten yet?” Bobby asked. 

Dean shook his head. Sam and Bobby exchanged a look. 

“I’ll go...get dressed,” Cas said. “It seems that you need to talk. Without me.” He squeezed Dean’s hand before letting go. 

“Cas?” Bobby asked. When the angel focused on him, he continued, “If you hurt him, I’ll kick your ass.” 

“Bobby--” Dean started. 

“I understand,” Cas said simply. “I won’t hurt him.” And something in his tone rang with truth. It wasn’t just an answer. It felt, sounded, resonated like a promise. Cas went up the stairs. 

Dean crossed his arms. “So?” 

“So what?” Sam asked. “Dude, we’re happy for you.” 

A terrible, terrible weight lifted in Dean’s chest. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously,” Sam said. “We’ve been over this.” 

Dean glanced from his brother to Bobby and back. Understanding lit Sam’s eyes. Yes, he and Dean had been over it. Dean and Bobby hadn’t. 

“You have?” Bobby asked. 

“Yeah. When we were hunting those werewolves,” Sam explained. His voice trailed off, and Dean knew he was trying to think of an out. “The night we met Elle. Speaking of, I should probably, uh, call her. Check in. See if she’s found anything.” He pulled out his phone and slowly walked outside, closing the door softly behind him. 

Dean finished his coffee and poured a second cup. “So?” 

“What? You asking for my blessing?” Bobby asked. 

Dean couldn’t meet Bobby’s eyes. “Come on, Bobby.” He exhaled slowly. “I know you’re cool with Charlie and everything, but I’m--”

“Just as much one of my own as she is,” Bobby said firmly. 

Dean’s eyes searched Bobby’s face for any sign of disingenuity. Could he really be serious? “Did you know?” 

“Did I know you get the hots for guys sometimes or Cas in particular?” When Dean didn’t answer, he sighed. “I had no clue until that dork with wings showed up.”

“That obvious, huh?” Dean said, barely keeping the smile off of his face. This was going _well_. He couldn’t believe it, but it was going _well_. 

“Well, not that obvious. Sam figured it out first.” Bobby shook his head, grumbling as he popped some bread in the toaster. “Damn kid.” 

“Forty bucks, huh?” Dean asked, smiling now. 

“Twenty that you’d come clean before Cas. Twenty that you’d make the first move.” 

“You thought _Cas_ would go first?” Dean asked in disbelief. 

“Did I think the angel who probably doesn’t give a rat’s ass about sexuality, who’s commanded friggin’ _armies_ , tell me before the kid who was raised by John Winchester and needed a friggin’ Cupid to realize his own feelings?” Bobby snorted. “Hell yeah. I bet on the angel.” His mouth twisted to the corner. “Can’t say I’m mad about being wrong, though. Bound to happen to everybody once in a while.” 

“Yeah, old man,” Dean said. “You’re probably overdue.” 

If it wasn’t for the sound of Bobby’s phone going off, Dean probably would’ve gotten an earful. “Jody? Asking about a date?” Dean knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Nah. Garth. Not seeing Jody again until Friday.”

Dean almost dropped his coffee. “And what are you and Jody doing on Friday?” 

“Shut up, idjit.” Bobby picked up. “Yeah?” 

Sam walked back into the kitchen, looking more than a little disoriented. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Dean asked as he got the toast out of the toaster. “Bad news from Elle?” 

“Not exactly,” Sam said. 

“That’s not what your face is saying.” 

Sam shot Dean his classic bitch face. Bobby hung up as Dean started eating. “Garth needs a hand, so I’m gonna head out in a bit.” 

“What’re you doing with Jody on Friday?” Dean asked. Sam perked up and stared at Bobby. 

The older hunter’s eyes went from one eager face to the other. “None of your damn business. Elle have any news?”

Sam’s disoriented expression came back. “Yeah. There’s a, uh, weapon we can make. We’ll need the blood of a fallen angel, the ruler of hell, and an alpha.”

“Good news,” Dean said. “So why the face?” 

Sam glared at his brother before saying, “We’ve got Cas. Crowley hates the Leviathans, so I’m sure he’ll be on board. Eventually.” 

“So the alpha’s gonna be the problem,” Bobby finished. 

“Maybe.” Sam started turning red. “There’s an event that Elle has to go to. Says there’ll be someone with a direct connection to an alpha there. She thinks she can talk him into talking the alpha into giving us her blood.” 

“Okay,” Bobby said warily. “So why d’you look like you just ate a lemon?” 

Sam scrunched up his nose. “It’s a ball.” 

There was a beat of silence. 

“A what?” Bobby asked. 

“A ball,” Sam repeated. He looked absolutely terrified. “With dancing. And fancy forks.” He swallowed. “I have to wear a tux.”

Dean burst out laughing--doubled-over, stitches in his sides laughing. This was priceless. Sam Winchester, who had spent over a year in hell with the actual devil, who’d been fighting monsters since he was a kid, was afraid of a _ball_. A _dance_. 

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam snapped. “It’s not that funny.” 

“Who else is gonna be at this thing?” Bobby asked. Based on his frown, he didn’t find it nearly as humorous as Dean did. 

Sam shrugged. “Dunno. Trust, me, man, if there were a way out of this, I’d take it. But Elle thinks she can get this alpha’s blood without risking any lives. Which is worth it to me.” He made a face again. “Where the hell am I gonna find a tux?” 

“Hang on,” Dean said. “Is this a date?” 

Sam flushed and shrugged. “I dunno.” 

“What the _hell_ am I gonna _do_ with you friggin’ _idjits_?” Bobby demanded. He glared at Sam. “Kid. If you want it to be a date, make it one.”

That clearly didn’t make Sam feel any better. “How? The hell am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Elle, just wondering if this ball thing you asked me to when we have a job to do and are clearly trying to not die is a date or not?’” 

Bobby frowned before nodding. “Yeah. That’s one way to do it. Or, you could just tell her you want it to be a date. Ask her out.” 

“I still have to go if she says no,” Sam reminded him. 

“Then you still go,” Bobby said impatiently, shaking his head as he made his way towards the stairs. “You could always ask if she wants to go on a date _period_ , ‘stead of hemming and hawing about it.”

“Like you did with Jody?” Dean asked. 

“Shut up,” Bobby snapped before taking the stairs at a light jog.

“Jody?” Sam asked, beaming.

“He’s seeing her on Friday,” Dean explained. 

“Damn. Good for him.” Sam walked over to the desk and pulled out his laptop. “Gotta figure out where the hell I can rent a tux that’ll actually friggin’ fit.” 

Cas came down the stairs, looking confused. “Is everything alright? I just passed Bobby, and he…” Worried blue eyes went to Dean’s. The question in them was clear: _Is he mad about us?_

“Bobby’s just pissed cuz I was teasing him about Jody,” Dean explained. Feeling unusually chipper, he kissed Cas’ cheek. The gooey look Cas gave him made it more than worth it, even with Sam’s gagging noise in the background. “We’re good.” 

“Why were you teasing him about Jody?” 

“Because Dean’s decided they’re going on a date on Friday,” Sam grumbled. “And apparently now I have to go on a date with Elle.” He glared at the computer. “I blame Charlie.” 

“Dude. Charlie can’t get credit for everything,” Dean reminded him. “She’s queer couples only, remember?” 

“Maybe Elle and Jody are…” Sam trailed off before beaming in victory. “Yes! Found a place.” He jotted down the address. 

Cas walked over and frowned at the computer. “Tuxedo rentals?” 

“There’s a ball Elle and I have to go to,” Sam told him. “Dean can explain the rest.” He grabbed his keys. “Be back soon.” He pointed at his brother. “Don’t do anything dumb.” He beamed at Cas. “I’m really happy for you guys. I mean it.” He left. 

Cas walked back over to Dean. “They’re really okay with…” He waved between the two of them. “Us?” 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean said. “They are.” There was a strange, light, almost giddy feeling in his stomach. Was that...happiness?

Bobby came down the stairs. “Where’d Sammy go?” 

“Tux rentals,” Dean explained. “What’s Garth after?” 

“He’s not sure, exactly,” Bobby said. “A vitala, maybe. Bodies keep disappearing and not turning up, so it could be just about anything. Making too much press to be Leviathans, though.” 

Dean hummed his agreement. “How long d’you think you’ll be gone?” 

“Hmm.” Bobby crossed his arms. “Shouldn’t be more than a few days. If it’s longer than a week, better send out a search party.” He paused just before leaving. Cleared his throat. “I’m, uh, really glad you two finally...well, you know.” He left. 

Dean let the silence settle for a moment, feeling that strange lightness in his stomach again. 

Cas took his hand. “Dean?” Green eyes met perfectly blue ones. “Are you okay?” 

Dean knew Cas wanted a real answer, not a thoughtless one. So he took a beat and focused inward. 

He wasn’t okay. He was fucking _awesome_. He was finally with Cas. Bobby and Sam were happy for them. Charlie was getting her permanent wings. Bobby had a date lined up, and Sam was well on his way there. Sure, the Leviathans weren’t going anywhere, but they had the start of a plan to end them. For once, it didn’t feel like Dean’s world was falling apart.

Dean smiled. “I’m good, man. Really good. It’ll probably all go to shit soon, but for now…” He nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” 

Cas smiled. “Okay. Good.”

Dean suddenly realized he hadn’t checked in with Cas--not really. “And, uh, you? You’re…” _Shit. Why am I so friggin’ bad at this?_

Cas kissed him soundly, and Dean’s head spun. When they broke apart, Cas said, “I’m good.” He scrunched his nose. “You still taste kind of strange.” 

Dean flushed furiously. “Still have to brush my teeth.” He looked down at his clothes. “And get changed.” 

Cas nodded. “I’ll let you go.” He tilted his head. “If Sam and Bobby are both away…” He met Dean’s eyes with an almost challenging look that Dean could definitely get used to. “What should we do?” 

Dean pursed his lips, watching Cas’ eyes fall to them and feeling powerful as hell. _This is gonna be fun_. “Ever been axe throwing?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading Cupid's Hack! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. Don't forget to hug that kudos button, and I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments! 
> 
> <3


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